Wish Upon a Star (As Dreamers Do)
by ICMezzo
Summary: There's plant magic and celestial magic and dark magic and the normal magic that allows Harry to use a spell to clean his socks when Myrtle's taken up in his laundry room again. Then there are wishes, and dreams, and love, and those are even more magical still. (Harry/Draco, side pairings Hannah/Neville, Hermione/Ron)


**Title:** Wish Upon a Star (As Dreamers Do)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> R  
><strong>Career Choices:<strong> Harry: Hogwarts Consultant; Draco: Wishmaker  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Harry/Draco (secondary Neville/Hannah, Hermione/Ron)  
><strong>WarningsContent Notes:** None.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> There's plant magic and celestial magic and dark magic and the normal magic that allows Harry to use a spell to clean his socks when Myrtle's taken up in his laundry room again. Then there are wishes, and dreams, and love, and those are even more magical still.

**A/N:** Originally written for **hd_fan_fair**'s Career Fair, prompt by Evening12. I have a feast of riches when it comes to betas, Brit-pickers, and other support. Endless gratitude to the talented, amazing (underlined thrice) women who helped bring out the very best in this story. Thank you for your thoughtful editing, dearest **lettered**, **arcadianmaggie**, **omi_ohmy**, **sapphirescribe**, and **twilightmundi** (it boggles my mind to even type out that list). I honestly couldn't wish for anyone but you. [shooting star emoji]

* * *

><p><strong>Wish Upon a Star (As Dreamers Do)<br>**

**~oOo~**

_When you wish upon a star,_  
><em>Makes no difference who you are.<em>  
><em>Anything your heart desires,<em>  
><em>Will come to you.<em>

_If your heart is in your dream,_  
><em>No request is too extreme,<em>  
><em>When you wish upon a star,<em>  
><em>As dreamers do.<em>

_Fate is kind._  
><em>She brings to those who love,<em>  
><em>The sweet fulfilment of,<em>  
><em>Their secret longing.<em>

_Like a bolt out of the blue,_  
><em>Fate steps in and sees you through,<em>  
><em>When you wish upon a star,<em>  
><em>Your dreams come true.<em>

–Disney's _Pinocchio_

**~oOo~**

"And that," Neville said, "is how I caught my first runaway potato."

Harry grinned as he perched atop a grimy old bucket, turned upside down against the packed earth floor of one of Neville's large greenhouses. Everything was dirty in there, including the better half of Neville's jokes, but Harry found the earthiness and complete disregard for pretence appealing. His own jeans and hands were already muddy, even though he'd done little but serve as a spectator while Neville transplanted fluxweed. He'd spent enough time watching Neville work that he felt at home in the greenhouse, and their pockets of conversation drifted by inconsequentially. The scents of mint and lavender and asphodel mingled with the tang of rich earth.

That particular Saturday had dawned bright and sunny, a rare treat that spring. With no obligations to speak of or chores that desperately needed doing, Harry had decided outdoors was the place to be. Not one for crowds or window shopping, he opted to head to Neville's for his fresh air.

"I should plant a garden," Harry mused, chewing on his fingernail, completely at ease. "Though I'll leave the potatoes to you."

"Yes," said Neville, pausing to wipe the sweat from his forehead with his arm and leaving an additional layer of dirt in its path. "Everyone should have a garden."

Smiling a little, Harry insisted, "I mean it this time."

Neville went back to work and Harry returned to his fingernail, examining the ragged, dirty edge before putting it back in his mouth, unconcerned.

"I never doubt that you mean it," Neville said.

"But you don't believe me?" Harry asked, his question light-hearted. He had, after all, never begun a garden, even after saying he wanted to at least once per visit.

Neville shrugged as he mounded soil around the base of another sprout. Neville's shoulders were thick and strong beneath his threadbare shirt, and the movement emphasized the musculature so much so that even Harry noticed before his thoughts strayed once more—this time to the small bee that landed atop a nearby blossom. The silence that settled over them once more was pleasant, though Harry could hear in the distance the cheerful noises and chatter from the little shop front being managed by Hannah that morning.

"Seeing something grow is a different sort of magic; that's all," Neville said after some time. "Watching something take root despite the odds and sprout from almost nothing."

"And that something sometimes tastes really good." Harry thought longingly of the strawberry patch behind the greenhouse.

Neville chuckled. "Help yourself. There's all sorts of berries out back."

"Can I? I'll drop off a few Galleons with Hannah," Harry said apologetically as he stood to investigate.

Neville waved him off. "Don't even try. But grab the sack of lemongrass seeds on your way back."

"Sure," Harry agreed, bending to brace himself as he climbed over an overturned wheelbarrow and make his way to the exit in search of some fruit.

When he was fully upright again, he stopped short; Draco Malfoy had entered the greenhouse. He stood tall and straight, right inside the entrance. Malfoy's gaze was steady as he took in Harry.

They stared at each other, unmoving.

Harry's mouth felt stuck. He hadn't seen Malfoy since Hogwarts, and that was a long time ago now. Malfoy's hair was as white blonde as Harry remembered, but almost everything else about him seemed a little different, the act of growing up resulting in a thousand small adjustments to every other physical attribute. He saw the boy in the man, but never could have imagined Malfoy would have turned out as he had. He wondered whether Malfoy's personality had similarly matured and braced himself for the possibility that a cutting remark might slice through the thick, humid greenhouse air.

Instead, Neville broke the silence, finally looking up to see what had distracted Harry's progress. "Oh, hey, Malfoy. Hannah's got your order up front."

Much less anger coloured his voice than Harry would have expected, which was to say, there was none at all. Harry wasn't exactly angry anymore either—Hogwarts felt very far away now that a decade had passed—but Neville had sounded almost cheerful.

Malfoy focused back on Neville and patted his shoulder bag. "Thank you. I obtained it already. I wished to ask a question about a future order, though, so she directed me to you. However, I can see that you're otherwise engaged. I shall inquire another time." Malfoy nodded once, very slightly, before turning abruptly back toward the door.

"Nah," Neville said, "Harry's stepping out anyway. Even if he wasn't, it'd be no problem." Neville glanced at Harry.

Having momentarily forgotten the strawberries, Harry took a moment to fit the pieces back together. Once he did, he gathered himself quickly. "Right. I'll just… I'll be back in a few."

He hurried to the exit, awkwardly ducking around Malfoy so as not to touch him when he passed by along the main aisle of the greenhouse, nearly tripping over an old shovel in the process. He ignored the way Malfoy's intense gaze followed him the entire way. Only when he was back outside in the fresh air and bright sunlight did he feel as though he could breathe properly again.

Harry paused right beyond the entrance to listen but Malfoy and Neville began discussing some mundane changes to Malfoy's long-standing order: additional peppermint, less lilac, add some fennel and rose thorns, please. And when did Neville think the ginger root was at its most potent?

"The ginger root you get from me is all the same. I track the amount of water it receives and supplement only as needed. No one wants a watered-down ginger—"

"Certainly not," Malfoy interrupted.

Harry rolled his eyes and started to head off once more toward the strawberry plants. As he went, he heard Neville ask, "So what's with the wild rose thorns? I don't get a lot of requests for those."

"For a wish-base," Malfoy said. "For when the matters at hand relate to the heart."

"Ahh," Neville said in understanding.

"Some people are very desperate, it seems," Malfoy said.

"They don't want to live without love," Neville remarked after a moment. "Can't blame 'em."

Harry sighed as his good mood began to evaporate. "S'really not so bad," he murmured to himself before hurrying away, feeling unsettled as he moved out of hearing distance.

Luckily, strawberries were the most cheerful fruit Harry knew of, so he took as long as he could with them, both trying to reclaim his earlier calm and to bide as much time as possible so as not to return to the greenhouse while Malfoy was still there. After a sizeable snack, he wandered back to the open storefront to chat with Hannah in between customers, keeping an eye on the greenhouse entrance so he'd see Malfoy when he re-emerged.

Neville's head poked out of the greenhouse instead after some time had passed. He looked around and spotted Harry, calling out, "Oi! Grab the lemongrass seeds?"

Harry cringed. "Sorry. Forgot. I'll get 'em now." He offered Hannah an apologetic look and went off to retrieve Neville's seeds for him.

"Cheers, mate," Neville said, heading back in.

When Harry returned with the seeds in hand, he found Neville alone in the greenhouse.

"He left a few minutes ago," Neville said.

"Oh, I didn't see…"

"Disapparated from here." Neville went to work on the lemongrass, as Harry stood nearby, his berry-stained fingers shoved into his pockets.

"Oh," said Harry.

"He's a good customer," Neville said. "Now."

"He wasn't at first?" Harry asked.

"Eh, suppose he was then, too." Neville grinned mischievously. "I overcharged him for everything in the beginning. He was always willing to pay, but after a while, it didn't feel right anymore. Now he's simply a customer, like everyone else."

He knew it had been a long time, but Harry still found it hard to believe that Malfoy could ever be like everyone else. He let the remark pass in favour of asking, "Where's he been all this time?"

Neville's brow furrowed. "Dunno. Around. Keeps to himself and runs his little business, I reckon. I didn't realize you hadn't seen him in a while."

"Not since Hogwarts."

"Really? That long?" Neville scooped handfuls of soil into an empty pot. "Suppose both of you avoid the sorts of spots where you'd bump into each other. Like… you know… public places."

Harry shrugged. "I go out."

Neville smiled to himself.

"I do sometimes. I'm here, aren't I? I see Ron and Hermione almost every month and Teddy, when school's out. Sometimes Luna."

"She's back?"

"What? Oh, no. Still gone. Been almost a year now." A ladybird chose that moment to land on Harry's arm and crawled up his shirt sleeve. He counted her eight spots. Luna would have liked the little insect; Harry seemed to recall her saying once that things that came in eights were good for a person's soul.

Neville stood then and brushed his hands on his pants. "I only have to water the sunflowers, then I think I'm all finished."

"You should have said something," Harry said as the little insect took to the air once more, off to destinations unknown. "I could have done that."

"Nah, I got it. You know how particular I am about them. They're Hannah's favourite."

"Guess I should head out anyway."

"Don't forget your coriander. It's with Hannah."

"I'll get it when I say goodbye to her on my way out."

"See you soon?"

"Yes," said Harry. "Soon."

"Wait. Harry."

Harry turned back to see Neville scoop up a mound of soil and place it into a little pot. "Here. For your new garden." A tiny bright green sprout stuck out from the dark soil. Harry thought maybe it waved at him a little.

"I'm actually going to have to start one now, aren't I?" Smiling as he accepted the pot, Harry asked, "What is it?"

"A surprise," Neville said. "Sun, water, and a little love, and you never know what may grow."

"A plant, I think, but you never know," Harry said. "Thanks. See ya, Nev."

"Any time, Harry."

**~oOo~**

Harry set the little pot on his kitchen windowsill when he arrived home, promising himself that he'd plant it outside at some point, though without making any sort of commitment as to when he would do so. He wasn't much of a fan of deadlines or promises any longer, even those made to himself. Whims were more his style, though even whims seemed to come with relative infrequency these days. That was fine; Harry was a simple man; he didn't wish for much. He had his modest little life, and that life was enough for him. More than he was supposed to have had, really, these extra years after the forest and the war, so he was content. Really he was. Possibly a little bored, but who wasn't at times?

At loose ends, he wasn't sure what to do with himself then, so he wandered through Grimmauld, opening windows and letting the slight breeze coax the fresh air through the place. The rooms were still a little darker than he'd choose under other conditions, but generally much cosier now that he'd had renovated. Long ago he'd told himself he didn't want to live in the past, and that resolve had begun at home. He couldn't help it if a few ghosts remained; it wasn't like he'd invited Mad-Eye to take up in the empty room at the end of the hall.

"Afternoon, Mad-Eye," Harry said as he passed.

Mad-Eye grunted and went back to pacing and gesturing with his stick, muttering about _vigilance,_ Potter, constant vigilance. Moody's hair consistently looked like he'd stuck his wand in a Muggle electrical socket. For some reason, Harry loved that.

Shaking his head, Harry passed the open door to head for the stairs. He really wished Moody didn't insist on floating around wearing only underpants, but whenever he asked him about it, Mad-Eye reminded him of the hot weather and if Harry didn't like it, Harry could choose not to come into the room. That the room was technically Harry's didn't seem to matter. Nor had it mattered last winter when the cold had made it through the cracks and the interior was actually quite chilly.

So there were a few ghosts, Harry acknowledged, but there were no longer rooms left as relics of those who had come and gone. In truth, he didn't need even half of the space available; many rooms remained entirely empty but for some dust motes and the fragrance of disuse, and it didn't really matter if Moody used one. So, too, the formal guest rooms were used less frequently these days, now that Ron and Hermione had married, and little Rose had arrived, and Ron no longer crashed there after hitting the pubs. Neville had lived with him as well for several months after he and Luna ended their confusing relationship. Years had passed since then, though, and now Neville and Hannah had been happily settled in together for a half dozen or more. Luna was travelling with what's-his-name in search of Merlin-knew-what.

At the beginning, when Ginny had stayed with him, back when they'd tried, she'd slept in his room, in his bed, though rarely intimately and never comfortably. Harry's spacious bed never seemed as tiny as when Ginny was breathing quietly beside him in the darkness.

His bed had been empty almost the entire time since her, though it never felt empty. It wasn't, was it? He was in it.

Making his way down the hall, Harry peered out his bedroom window that overlooked the small backyard. He should owl Gin sometime. See how she was doing. For old time's sake. He knew she'd taken a leave of absence from the Harpies for a few years to raise her little ones—Oliver and… was it Anna? Yes, he thought that was the youngest's name. He really should call Gin, probably.

He paused to feel the sun on his face—it poured in the window—and breathe in the fresh air.

McGonagall wanted him to introduce a few new Muggle devices into the house-elf kitchens, and Harry had to spend some time figuring out how to get around the electricity they often required to run. He really should get started on that, but first he went back downstairs to watch the Cannons get flattened by Falmouth on the Wizarding television. It made him wonder whether Draco Malfoy still played Quidditch. Godric, but it had been odd to see Malfoy after so many years. Malfoy'd been reasonably polite, though. He'd behaved like the adult he now was. He looked good, all things considered, Harry decided. He looked… He looked like a bloke who now lived a normal life free of war and the trappings of childhood overindulgence, both.

Well, good for him.

"Go Cannons," Harry muttered as Chudley scored another 10 points, bringing the tally to 260 to 40 in favour of Falmouth. He dozed off when the Cannons were down by 300 and didn't wake again until Moody swore loudly beside him when the Snitch was caught.

**~oOo~**

Harry had accidentally left his coriander behind at Neville's, but didn't get back to pick it up until nearly two weeks later. Neville's stasis charm was now solid, though, and Harry had enough Star Grass Salve to last at least that long, so an immediate visit was unnecessary.

When he finally made it over, he found himself peering around, half expecting Malfoy to appear as he might have done years ago, like a character from a storybook, showing up at the right moment to propel Harry into action and to keep the plot of his life moving along. Is that why he'd got into a bit of a rut lately? Because Malfoy hadn't been around to spur him on? He banished the thought before it had fully formed in his mind.

The visit proved less unusual than the last, though, and after a slice of strawberry and rhubarb pie with Hannah, he returned home with his pockets full of coriander and carrying a second little seedling courtesy of a grinning Neville and a pint of blueberries—but without having spotted Malfoy.

**~oOo~**

Upon arriving home, Harry put away the plump berries before he ate the entire pint in one go and placed the second sprout on the kitchen window ledge beside the first. He still hadn't planted it, but he had remembered to water it a few times, and the plant looked healthy enough. He cast an Aguamenti once again to moisten the soil in both pots. The first plant hadn't changed much, and it still waved to him when he came into the kitchen, though it had grown closer to an inch tall at that point, instead of the half-inch or so it had been when he'd first brought it home. Now he had two.

"I wonder what they are," Harry murmured, partly to himself and partly to the ghosts around his kitchen table.

Moody stared at him, as though Harry should have either known already or, perhaps, known that the answer was only to be found through _constant vigilance._

Harry cringed at the lack of trousers on the man—seeing thick, hairy naked ghost thighs on his furniture wasn't something he'd grown accustomed to—and almost forgot his question entirely when Cedric piped up.

"You know your bathroom on the fifth floor? It's not a bad place for a bath. Take your plants and... mull things over in the hot water."

"Right," Harry said because ghost Cedric was always suggesting Harry take whatever was troubling him to the bath and hold them underwater. Harry didn't exactly think it would work with a plant, but taking the advice under consideration was only polite. It was the least he could do, and Cedric was always so earnest. Not to mention fully clothed. He quite liked ghost Cedric, even if he was slightly odd. All awkwardness had dissipated years ago, so he rather enjoyed the company and sometimes they played a modified form of Quidditch together, though Cedric didn't require a broom.

At Cedric's hopeful look, Harry grabbed a plant on the way out of the room and headed upstairs to test the ghost's theory. Having Cedric around only meant a few more baths than were strictly necessary, that was all.

After his bath Harry needed to get back to the DADA professor at Hogwarts about the counter-curse he'd figured out last week and then he had to let Madame Pince know he'd found the weakness in the ward around the Restricted Section. He also had an owl from Hagrid waiting, likely asking him to watch over the various Hogwarts creatures while he travelled to France with Maxime again.

Consulting for Hogwarts kept Harry's days busy enough, even if the job wasn't the grand career strangers had once expected of him. He much preferred making his own hours and deciding his own availability. The job was varied enough to be interesting, and sometimes it challenged him, which was probably good, because little else did anymore except Moody's reluctance to wear trousers. Harry didn't think that counted.

**~oOo~**

Harry stared at the five little plants on his windowsill. Whether Neville agreed or not, he most assuredly had a little garden now. His just happened to grow indoors.

"S'not hard, Harry," Neville had said one afternoon a few weeks prior. "You've seen me plant seedlings enough times. Want me to come over and help?"

"Nah. I'll do it," Harry'd replied, kicking his heels against the bucket on which he sat.

Neville had pulled a face in response and then gone back to his pruning, and Hannah joined them not long after with cool pumpkin juice and plump raspberries. The combination went surprisingly well together, Harry decided, when they all took a break to sit in the shade.

"I closed the shop," Hannah said at one point. "Was a good day. Ran out of the blackberries and nearly all of the carrots are gone."

Neville looked pleased. "I'll Summon more. In the morning, when it's cooler."

Hannah smiled back at him before glancing quickly at Harry. "Draco Malfoy came by earlier for his supplies."

"Good," Neville said. "Did he say about the ginger?"

Harry studied the ground then, instantly afraid to disrupt this surprisingly welcome flow of information. Merlin help him, but Malfoy still intrigued him.

"You were right," Hannah replied. "He doesn't need as much as he thought. He suggested cutting his standard order back by a third."

"Yeah, all right. We'll see how that goes."

"That's what I told him."

Harry leaned back in the grass and looked at Hannah. "What's he making that he needs such a large order?"

Hannah tilted her head. "You don't know? Well, I suppose you don't keep up with that sort of stuff. Draco's a Wishmaker. From what I understand, he uses a special base—that's what the ingredients are for—to make the star dust work even better."

"Malfoy?" Harry asked. "A Wishmaker? What even is that?"

Neville had grinned. "Harry, mate, you should see your face. Never heard of a Wishmaker before?"

"Not even once," Harry had said, still in disbelief that Malfoy could be… well, whatever a Wishmaker was.

"They're pretty rare. Very few people have the gift of celestial magic, and fewer recognize it. Someone must have seen it in him, though. Or maybe he figured it out himself, that he was born with it, and worked on it. They say he's good—very good. I think the potions base idea was his, too. Improves the outcomes, from what he's told me."

"How does he do it?" Harry frowned.

Hannah seemed eager to explain. "I've never seen it, but Trisha Buttermere, the Hufflepuff? She went to him once when the potion she needed was banned by the Ministry for some reason or another. I think she wanted to wish for the Ministry to go fuck itself." Hannah paused to smile unapologetically, "Since her problem was embarrassing. But she ended up wishing for a different way to deal with it instead. Well, right after she saw Draco, she accidentally tuned into a Muggle advert on the wireless that would cure her exact problem. Well, all right, maybe the Muggle hospital didn't know that her appendix could swear in six languages and request a solid shag in three others, but they removed it for her, and she didn't have to pay for it, unlike the original potion, which apparently tasted like rotting beets."

It sounded a little coincidental to Harry, but Hannah seemed pretty certain Malfoy was responsible for it. He looked at Neville, who didn't seem to question his wife's rendition.

"But how does it _work?_" Harry pressed.

Neville replied that time. "He records the wish from his customer—sometimes gives advice on phrasing so nothing bad happens by accident—and then he watches for shooting stars. When he sees one, he makes the wish on behalf of the person, and then Summons some of the glowing stuff from the trail, collects that, mixes it into the base—he makes different versions—and then. Actually, I don't know what he does with it. Something. Then the wish comes true."

This, too, sounded more than a little suspect. "Are you fucking with me?"

Neville had laughed as he stood. "No. Celestial magic has been celebrated for centuries. That's why we had to take Astronomy. Malfoy's got it in his snooty bloodlines."

"He must totally get off on all that power."

"Aw, I don't think so, mate. Did you? Mostly keeps to himself. He doesn't advertise. They say he's very choosy and won't take on any wishes he thinks could cause harm. He can't even do that many because he has to spot the shooting stars himself."

"If you say so," Harry had replied, also getting to his feet. "Well, guess I should be heading out. Thanks for the berries." He turned to Neville, "And for yet another plant."

"Plant them, Harry."

"I know," he had replied before he left, though even now, a week or so later, he hadn't yet done so; it sat in its little pot along with the others on his windowsill.

Harry still had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea of Draco Malfoy being a Wishmaker, but Malfoy's probable ties to celestial magic were hard to deny, now that Harry knew it existed, especially given Malfoy's name and the names of his ancestors decorating the family tree in one of the dustier rooms upstairs. Some sort of connection seemed obvious in retrospect. He recalled Malfoy doing well in Astronomy, too, and Merlin knew Harry'd seen him in the Astronomy Tower more than once.

One thing was certainly true—there were more sorts of magic than Harry realized: celestial magic and plant magic and dark magic and the normal magic that allowed him to use a cleaning spell on his socks when he didn't feel like doing the washing. Myrtle had taken up in his laundry room again, and he was pretty sure she was stealing one out of every pair.

And really, what was it about ghosts making themselves at home in his house? Granted, Cedric and Myrtle weren't always there—they both came and went according to their own ghostly agendas. Merlin, Harry never imagined the most frequent guest in the third floor spare room would be Mad-Eye. He'd almost fallen down the bloody stairs when Moody showed up and greeted him for the first time early one morning with his hair an absolute fright and only wearing pants, while Harry was still in his pyjamas and bleary-eyed, not yet having had his coffee. And he didn't want to know who was in the attic, but he thought it might be the Grey Lady.

Harry sighed. His life was ridiculous. Always had been.

Ridiculous or not, he had to get moving—he had a meeting with McGonagall in 15 minutes. He waved goodbye to his plants, called goodbye to Moody, who was poring over a map of Canada in the study (why exactly Canada required constant vigilance at that moment, Harry had no idea), and put on his shoes to Floo to McGonagall's office for his next assignment.

**~oOo~**

"Apparate? On Hogwarts grounds?" Harry asked, leaning back in his chair, his mind already going to work on the problem.

"The professors and staff, yes," replied McGonagall from behind her desk. "The Headmaster or Headmistress is able to do so, of course, but I believe that right should be extended to the entirety of the faculty, if it can be managed."

"But we don't know how the exception works?"

"We do not."

"Hmm," said Harry.

"The Founders likely placed the spells on the castle—Anti-Apparation Charm and the Anti-Disapparation Jinx—and there are strict instructions passed down about how to lift them temporarily—such as for Apparation Classes—but you can imagine why we want to keep them in place the vast majority of the time. We do want to extend the right to professors and staff to be able to Apparate at will, however. It's a matter of safety for students, as well as a help to the professors who are getting slower and creakier as the years pass, and others have injuries that may never fully heal."

"I'll get to work on it," Harry said.

"As you know, Harry, we appreciate your assistance."

"Keeps me from getting into trouble."

McGonagall regarded him. "You've never stayed out of trouble, and let's not pretend otherwise." Her lips quirked into a small smile. "And where would we be if you had?"

Portrait Snape huffed and muttered something obnoxious about Harry's father from his ornate frame behind McGonagall's head. Harry rolled his eyes at the painting before smiling at McGonagall. "I'll be back when I have something for you. Goodbye, Headmistress."

Figuring there was no harm in attempting the obvious, Harry paused in the corridor outside of McGonagall's office. He closed his eyes and thought of his front stoop.

_Destination._

_Determination._

_Deliberation._

And…

Nothing.

He looked around the stone corridor. Perhaps he needed to try harder. Really focus. Put everything into it this time. He was a strong wizard; everyone said so. Maybe as strong as Dumbledore. They said that, too. Maybe he could… if he gave it everything he had. He squeezed his eyes shut.

_Destination._

_Determination._

_De—_

"HARRY POTTER! It's Harry Potter!" A young girl squealed from down the hall.

The sound pulled Harry from his thoughts and back into the corridor in time to see nearly a dozen little Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors running at him. Disoriented, he stepped back awkwardly and nearly tripped in his effort to get away from the fast advancing pack of 12-year-olds.

"I. Er. Hello. Um. Do your homework! Stay in school! Go, Go, Gryffindor! Got to go… uh. Sorry!" he said, scrambling backwards and hoping he could make it to the staff lounge and Floo before they caught up to him.

He spun around and booked it directly—

Directly into a wall.

For the love of Godric, he thought as bounced backwards and landed on his arse right as the excited children caught up to him.

"HARRY POTTER!"

"Harry! Harry Potter!"

"_HARRRRRRY POTTER!_"

Bloody hell. He rarely made it through this sort of situation with his robes intact. He was going to have to order more again. He tried to make sure they didn't get his glasses. Oh Merlin. One girl was weeping openly and one boy looked like he was going to pass out. Another was trying to take his shoe.

Suddenly, magic grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him to his feet and away from the children.

He looked around, blushing fiercely when he saw his rescuer.

"Er. Thanks, Headmistress."

"Back to your classes, children. Off you go. You, Mr Potter, may use my Floo." Her mouth twitched. "Unless you see the need to visit the infirmary first?"

**~oOo~**

Following his instincts and relying on his own magical power was generally enough for Harry to solve problems. Advice from Hermione served as backup. The former had got him nothing but a sore bum, a headache, and broken spectacles, though, so he made it a point to catch up with his friend. Unfortunately, she, too, seemed at a loss regarding the magic related to Hogwarts Apparation rules.

"I'd often wondered about that over the years, I admit," Hermione said as she wove Rose's thick curls into a plait. "I suppose I wondered about other questions more, though, and then forgot when life got busy. I looked into it only very briefly, enough to figure out the magic was in place long before Dumbledore, but that's about it."

Rose blinked large eyes at Harry as Hermione finished with her hair. Placing a kiss atop her head, Hermione handed her a brightly coloured book. Rose wandered over to sit near Harry's feet, so he scooped her up into his lap where she adopted a very serious face as she thumbed through her copy of_ The Velveteen Puffskein_ to look at the illustrations.

Harry turned back to Hermione. "Yes. McGonagall also said the Founders of the school probably put it in place. Well, I haven't been able to overcome it by force, and I'm not completely sure whether the magic is part of the castle or placed over its inhabitants. I suppose it could be magic placed on the people, but that seems unlikely. If it's magic that's tied to the castle as a whole, then I need to figure out why Headmasters can get around it by accepting the position."

He paused to poke Rose's side, and she giggled in response before swatting his hand away. He should have known not to interrupt Hermione's child during book time.

Hermione smiled at them. "Have you tried asking the portraits? Maybe one of the earliest Headmasters knows."

"McGonagall already did. She wasn't able to get any information from them."

"How about asking some of your ghosts?" she asked. "Too bad none of the Founders are still around."

"I doubt Moody or Cedric or Myrtle would know. Though I suppose I should find out who is in the attic. If it's Helena, there's a chance she might have some information."

Hermione blinked. "The Grey Lady is at Grimmauld Place? When did that happen?"

"Er. Over the winter? Not sure it's her. Haven't really investigated. I think it's a female though."

"Why would the Grey Lady…?"

"Why would any of them?" He chuckled. "Maybe I'm really good company."

"Oh Harry," Hermione sighed.

"I know. I asked Cedric once and he just said Grimmauld Place was particularly comfortable for ghosts because of all the empty space and cobwebs, and because no one would see them who shouldn't because of the spells keeping it hidden. And I don't really mind having them there, when I think most people would. Anyway, I tried toying with the magic at the boundaries of the Hogwarts grounds, to see if I could sense any shift in the magic present when I stepped on and off of the property, but I couldn't separate that magic from the others in any way that allowed me to spot a Headmaster-sized hole in the spell. I was tempted to try Apparating with one foot on property and one off, to see if I could—"

"Merlin! You'd get bloody Splinched!" Hermione's alarm caused Rose to look up from her book once more, but Harry pointed at the fluffy Puffskein on the page and Rose returned to the story. She began flipping through the pages backwards this time.

"The chances are higher than I'd like, yes. That's why I didn't try it," Harry replied calmly. The prospect of Splinching always got Hermione twisted unnecessarily. Merlin help poor Rose when it came time for her to learn to Apparate. Maybe he'd offer to teach her so Hermione didn't have to watch.

"I wonder if it's a sort of intentional gap in the magic that allows the Apparation or whether the Headmaster position has something tied to it that overcomes magic that would otherwise include everyone."

"I'm not sure," Harry said. "It seems likely there's a provision allowing for that gap, but I can't find a way to prove it."

"If that's it, I'm surprised it's not in a book somewhere."

"McGonagall said there was nothing in the library at Hogwarts that she could find," Harry continued.

Hermione looked sceptical. "Did she check the books on the Founders and Hogwarts history as well as the section on jinxes and charms?"

"I'll double check," he assured her, watching as she pulled her own hair up into a messy pile atop her head. Everyone with nice hair always wanted to make theirs look messy.

"I can try to look into it too."

"You're busy as it is. I'll figure it out. I was looking for ideas," Harry said, glancing down at the studious child in his lap. "But, um, I should probably mention that Rose is... Er... She doesn't exactly smell like roses anymore."

"Oh, Harry," she laughed, rising to claim her daughter from his lap. "Come along, my sweet, fragrant Rose. Let's change you so you can get back to your very important work."

Harry stood behind her. "Thanks for the advice, Hermione. I'll leave you to your day. I know you have that project plan to put together."

She smiled back at him. "I'll let you know if I think of anything else."

"Great," he said as he waved goodbye to Rose, who generously waved back.

**~oOo~**

Harry pushed open his attic door, breath held and a little nervous. It creaked from disuse. "Helena? Miss Ravenclaw? Are you here? I thought I heard…" He stepped into the room.

A ghost that was decidedly not the Grey Lady popped up in front of him. "Mr Potter."

Startled, Harry tripped backwards into a pile of furniture, falling awkwardly onto a horrid, dusty old fabric sofa. A broken wooden chair tipped over beside him with a final crash and the poof of dust that clouded his sight was thick enough that he doubted his eyes for a moment and caused him to have a coughing fit.

When he regained his senses, Harry stood again, brushed off his trousers, and peered around the room. Harry nearly fell over again when he spotted her. _Oh. Oh my._ Definitely her—stuffed vulture hat, distinctive bag, and all. He was suddenly nervous; could ghosts send Howlers? "I. Uh. Mrs Longbottom?" He swallowed and understood why Neville was always petrified by the woman. Her now-ephemeral body didn't diminish her fierceness, and she was as intimidating as ever.

"In the not-quite flesh. Tell me. How is my grandson?"

"Um. He's well. He's… He's good. Brilliant. He works with plants. Plants them. Plants… plants. Grows them. Sometimes picks them. The ones that are meant to be picked. He gave me one. Some. An unpicked some. Some that were unpicked. Lots. Well, more than a few. Six." Merlin, this was not going well. Why was this woman so terrifying? He was sweating; the attic was really hot, and he had to pee.

She sniffed but looked satisfied enough. "Well, what can I do for you then? I assume this is not a social call." She turned away and crossed in front of him to the other side of the attic.

"I wanted to know who was here," he said to the back of her head, because she wasn't the Grey Lady after all.

"I'm not inconveniencing you," she said, turning back to him.

"No. I wasn't… I don't use the attic."

She stared at him.

"I… Er… I'll just. I'll go then." Harry walked quickly to the door. Neville's Gran sniffed disapprovingly at him once again, and Harry quickly reached for the handle.

"Wait," she said then, and Harry turned back. The look in her eyes had softened. "Tell him I'm proud of him." She paused. "Then tell him to get a haircut for Merlin's sake and to stand up straight when he's talking to customers."

"I'll pass that on," he said, slipping out of the attic and shutting the door tightly behind him, as though such a step would keep Mrs Longbottom's ghost in the attic even a moment longer than she wanted to be there.

**~oOo~**

"Again? That's three times this month," Neville said, looking up when Harry entered the greenhouse.

"I know," Harry said. "Aren't you a lucky sod."

Neville snorted. "The luckiest."

"Can I help?"

Looking around, Neville looked thoughtful. "I don't think so. Unless you feel like helping me Summon the caterpillars from the Umbrella flowers?"

"I can do that."

"All right. Here, you need to do it one by one. And here; put 'em in this bucket. I'll transfer the buggers over to the Puffapods later this afternoon. They like the company."

"Got it."

Once they got started, Harry spoke up. "Can I pick your brains about something?"

"I'm not sure I've brains to spare. What is it?" Neville tossed a fuzzy caterpillar into the bucket.

Harry shook his head. "You've got plenty." Since none of Hermione's suggestions had panned out and neither had any of his own further experiments or ideas, he was definitely feeling stuck regarding the Hogwarts Apparation business. Neville wasn't necessarily one for research per se, but seeing as he'd been known to save the day in the past, Harry decided it couldn't hurt to run it by him. He also had that message from Neville's Gran to deliver, and Neville should probably know where his grandmother's ghost was now residing anyway. Where to begin?

"Well, basically McGonagall's asked me to extend the exception to the Anti-Apparation charms at Hogwarts to cover other professors besides the Headmaster."

"Probably a good idea, but I'm really not great at magical theory."

Harry shrugged and Summoned another caterpillar, catching it in his hand. Being careful not to squish it, he tossed it into the bucket where it landed on the cushioning charm Neville had placed at the bottom. "Neither am I, really, but I'm trying to help."

"You asked Hermione already?"

"Of course, but nothing really panned out. I've tried a bunch of spells myself to modify or get around the magic, but I can't find anything. The Founders did a really good job with it, and the magic solidifying it is really ancient and obscure. The only place there's anything similar is Gringotts, and even that's pretty different because it's Goblin magic. The house-elves can also Apparate at Hogwarts, but they don't seem to know how their magic works."

Neville thought for a minute, and Harry let him, content to concentrate on gently untangling two caterpillars having a romantic tryst under a colourful blossom. "Sorry to interrupt, lads," he said, Summoning and catching the pouting critters in his hands. "Anyway, I hate letting McGonagall down. Really wish I could figure it out." He turned to toss them into the bucket.

"It's terrible luck to interrupt shagging gay caterpillars."

Whirling around at the sound of the posh voice, Harry missed the bucket entirely with his caterpillars. Neville snorted with laughter as Draco Malfoy shot spells in quick succession to freeze the caterpillars in mid-air.

Harry gaped at him.

"They've already had a rough day, don't you think? No need to fling them to the ground." Malfoy waved his wand and the caterpillars were moving again, this time swooping over to the intended bucket and landing gently inside it. Task accomplished, he nodded at Neville, then Harry. "Longbottom. Potter."

Still chuckling, Neville said, "Hey, Malfoy. Here to pick up your order?"

"Please. Hannah said you had it back here."

"Yeah, I hadn't managed to bring everything up to the shop yet. It's in the other greenhouse. Freshly picked though."

"Outstanding." Malfoy paused and turned to Harry then, and something about the look in his grey eyes made Harry swallow.

"Hey, Harry. You should ask Malfoy about the Hogwarts business while I go get his order from the other greenhouse."

"Right. I could…" Harry looked around, pretending he was completely comfortable alone with Malfoy, his former enemy who'd had the unexpected fortune of turning into a rather striking man at some point in the last decade.

"You do know there's a caterpillar in your hair, don't you?" Malfoy said, not unkindly.

"I… shit." Harry reached to scrub his hands through his hair while Malfoy sighed and shot a spell at his head.

"Wha—" He couldn't finish the sentence though, because Malfoy had frozen him instantly in place, as he had with the caterpillars. His breath caught in his throat as Malfoy gazed at him.

"Salazar, Potter. Do you want caterpillar guts in your hair? I'll answer for you, since you seem to be lacking knowledge in the area of haircare. No. No, you do not." Malfoy cast another spell, and this one combed through Harry's hair for the caterpillar.

"Got it." Malfoy Summoned it from Harry's head, catching it and adding it to the bucket collection. Malfoy's magic washed over Harry then, and even though he was still frozen solid, something in Harry melted a little. "Checking for others," Malfoy said, his voice soft.

Harry was unable to look away as Malfoy's eyes travelled slowly over him. He didn't think the Body Bind was what kept him frozen in place; he'd learned to break free of those years ago.

The crunch of Neville's heavy footsteps broke the spell, and Malfoy cancelled the Body Bind a split second later. "All better."

Harry tried to speak, but words, words such as_ What the fuck?_ and _The next time you cast a spell at my head, I'm aiming for your bollocks_ got caught in his throat. Instead of cursing at Malfoy, he croaked, "Thanks."

Malfoy nodded once.

"Here you go," Neville said, entering the greenhouse once more and handing a box to Malfoy. "Everything should be in there. Let me know what you think of that new strain of rutabaga."

"Will do." Malfoy turned to accept the box. "Now what was this issue with Hogwarts magic?"

"McGonagall wants to let other professors Apparate on Hogwarts grounds," Harry said. "I agreed to help."

"He's stuck," Neville said.

"Thanks, Nev." Harry sighed.

"Well, you are." Neville turned to Malfoy. "And you know Harry. Always wants to—"

"Help. Yes, I wish I could help," Harry interrupted. What was so wrong with that anyway?

"Hmm." Malfoy studied Harry. "You say that you_ wish_ you could help?"

"Of course," Harry said.

"If that's the case, if you really wish to—Well… I might be able to assist with this little project of yours." Reaching into the pocket of his robes, Malfoy pulled out a card and handed it to Harry, holding onto the end of it a beat longer than necessary when Harry reached for it.

Harry hesitated.

"Works, Harry. You should try it," Neville said distractedly, picking up the caterpillar bucket and glancing inside. "That should be enough."

Harry glanced at Malfoy. "I don't—"

He hadn't realized how warm and open Malfoy's gaze had grown until it abruptly turned cold and his face shuttered once more. "Or not, of course. Certainly, I have plenty of other cases." Malfoy turned to Neville. "Goodbye, Longbottom. Thank you again for the order. I'll be by again at the end of the month. Go ahead and charge my account as usual."

"Right. Heading out then?" Neville was still assessing caterpillars. "See you next time."

"Of course." Glancing at Harry one more time, Malfoy spun and exited the greenhouse in short order.

"Merlin, Harry. He was offering to help," Neville said as he carried his bucket over to the Puffapods in the next greenhouse.

"I'll figure it out," Harry said. "I don't need a Wishmaker."

"He won't offer again. He's no longer a total prick, but he's still Malfoy."

"Right, right. Let's see how it goes," Harry said as he trailed after Neville, more than ready for a subject change. "Now, get this: you'll never believe who is currently in my attic…"

**~oOo~**

Harry stared out his kitchen window where his makeshift family had gathered.

Harry couldn't figure it out. He was forced to admit it. He swallowed his pride and said the words.

"I can't do it."

They tasted foreign on his tongue. He_ always_ figured it out. Or, at least, his friends always helped him figure it out. But they couldn't this time. He'd tried everything. He'd consulted with portraits, asked ghosts, and tried overpowering the spells with both force and cunning. This landed him in St Mungo's. He'd even gone to the library, he was so desperate. He hated leaving a task unfinished.

Cedric nodded sadly. "You even listened for the answer underwater."

"I did," Harry agreed. "Twice."

"Tastes like goblin piss," Moody said.

"Bathwater?" Harry asked.

"Failure," the ghost answered. "So stop moping around and go deal with it."

"I don't know how," Harry said.

"Of course you do. I'm the best Auror the Ministry ever had. Think I wouldn't notice a bloody business card sitting on your desk? _Constant vigilance,_ Potter."

"Surely you don't believe that Wishmaking stuff actually—"

"Investigate." Moody began to float away. "Let me know how it works."

"_If_ it works," Harry corrected the wall Moody had just floated through, before turning back to the window.

Harry looked at his little collection of plants that still sat there; the dark green one that made soft chirping and humming noises at him had caught his attention with an encouraging sort of twitter. The waving one—there was no question it waved now—caught his attention by forming a little heart shape with two of its leaves. He let out a deep sigh.

"Fine," Harry said. "I'll contact him. But I don't have to like it."

Hearing Myrtle's giggles all the way from the laundry room in the basement, he narrowed his eyes and leaned over the kitchen sink. "What did you do, Myrtle?" he demanded of the drain.

She giggled again. "Washed it, washed it. Washed the card, I washed it!" The words, followed by additional laughter, reverberated up through the sink.

"Bloody hell," Harry said, banging his head on the edge of the counter.

Cedric paced a foot above the tiled kitchen floor, eyebrows knitted. "A card. A business card! That's really not the sort of thing you're supposed to hold underwater, Harry!"

"Yes, thanks, Cedric." Harry scrubbed his hand through his hair.

Godric. Now he had to ask around for Malfoy's contact information or rent an owl (he never owned another himself) and risk the papers getting hold of the destination. He guessed he'd better ask Neville.

He got on his hands and knees before the Floo and opened the connection.

"Hey, Hannah. Is Neville around?" he asked when she appeared before her hearth a minute later.

"One moment."

While he was waiting, he heard Cedric whisper a soft "Uh oh," behind him and moments later, terrible, horrible yelling started coming from the basement. Harry would have recognized it anywhere.

Neville showed up, quickly covering his ears.

"SORRY!" Harry shouted over the noise. "I THINK YOUR GRAN SENT MYRTLE A HOWLER."

Neville looked pained. "I'd say so, yes," he said. Or, at least, that's what Harry thought he might have heard through the screeching.

"I NEED MALFOY'S ADDRESS."

"I'll give it to you, but only if you promise never to call me again during a Howler."

"IT'S A DEAL. CAN I HAVE IT, PLEASE?"

"I'll owl it over after dinner."

"FINE," Harry shouted right as the yelling finally stopped. "Er, fine," he said again in a normal voice. "Thanks?"

Neville shook his head.

"Tell me about it," said Harry, closing the Floo.

**~oOo~**

Malfoy's house was _small_. Harry tried not to look too surprised as he approached, but the house was _small._ Not a single fountain or turret, and certainly no peacocks of any variety. There were a few well-kept trees out in front, with a slate path between them leading up to the little tiny box of a house, and once Harry cancelled the spell that would have sent him walking by it altogether, he decided everything appeared welcoming enough.

It didn't look like anyone was home, though. Everything was shut up tight. Maybe Malfoy wasn't home; Harry hadn't exactly Owled ahead. He decided to come back another day.

Turning abruptly, he took one little glance back at the unassuming abode, and strode off down the street in the direction from whence he'd come.

He'd got no farther than a block away when he turned around again. Perhaps Malfoy didn't like sunlight—he'd lived below ground at Hogwarts. Or maybe he kept it dark for some Astronomy reason. Or maybe he was up to something. Either way, Harry should at least _knock._

Harry approached again, cancelled the unwelcoming spell again, and stepped up to the little front gate, peering around to find a name or mailbox or some indication that he really did have the right place. He couldn't find a single sign the place was Malfoy's.

Maybe the house wasn't Malfoy's. Maybe Neville had copied down the wrong address. The house looked like it belonged to some little old woman with a fetching hat and too much blush and socks that wouldn't stay up and so gathered at her ankles.

Harry turned around again. He'd better check the address with Neville before knocking and startling some old woman who was napping the afternoon away. He made it less than halfway down the street this time.

Because this was Malfoy's house. He knew it.

He marched back to the house.

Malfoy slept during the day because he was up all night watching for stars, and Malfoy didn't have to have a huge house. Maybe he'd spent all his money on posh clothes and cufflinks and trips to the south of France. Or maybe he didn't_ want_ a large house for the same reasons that Harry didn't really want all of Grimmauld Place sometimes because the empty space was too much. Malfoy probably didn't even have ghosts or plants to keep him company.

Of course this little house was Malfoy's, now that Harry thought about it. All the precise neat little right angles, like Malfoy used to chop Flobberworms. Definitely Malfoy's house.

Harry reached the front gate, and with a final glance back down the street, opened the front gate to step through.

Of course this was—

The ground disappeared beneath him and Harry could do little but sigh as he fell through the magical barrier and ended up sprawled on the cool marble floor of a posh grand entry hall. A painting of a white peacock hung on one wall.

Of course this was Malfoy's house.

"For Godric's sake," Harry mumbled, getting to his feet.

"I had planned to be out this afternoon, but I'm ever so glad I was delayed. I'd have been sorry to miss the little show at my gate. I knew Gryffindors rushed into things, but I hadn't realized they rushed in, out, and then back in again in such rapid succession."

Gritting his teeth, Harry turned to Malfoy and tried to smile.

Malfoy smiled coolly back at him. "I modelled the gate after 9¾. What do you think? I quite like it myself."

"It's great. Look, Malfoy, I'm sure you know why I'm here."

"Surely, I do not. I do recall offering my services, of course, but you weren't exactly eager to—"

"I need help," Harry ground out.

"Ahh," Malfoy said.

Harry blinked.

Malfoy looked back.

Harry tried again. "I need help."

"So you said."

"Will you? Help me?" He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I'm very busy."

"S'not for me, you know. It's for McGonagall really and other professors. For Hogwarts."

"I do know. That's why I let you in at all."

"I thought you meant to watch me grovel. Make an arse of myself."

"I caught the early performance out front." Malfoy folded his arms across his chest.

"Fine. Please. Is that what you'd like?" Harry asked. "Please help me. I really _wish_ you would." He emphasized the word in case that was what Malfoy's magic required.

"Look, Potter. Here's how it is. I am good at my job. I work hard and use my talents to change people's lives for the better. It's completely respectable, and I'm proud of it. You, however, refuse to believe that, or else you think it's all made up, like I'm some glittery tooth fairy! And while I assure you I could be an excellent tooth fairy, my job is a _Wishmaker._ I collect_ shooting star dust,_ which is a highly regarded ability amongst those in the know. I observe the heavens and watch for meteors so as to obtain and harness the glowing trail of meteorites and debris they leave behind as they burn up upon entry into the atmosphere, thereby allowing me to perform extremely specialized magic. I love doing it and have dozens of wizards who are dying for my services. Because I'm Just. That. Goo—"

Malfoy's mouth hung open as Harry's snort of laughter interrupted his speech.

"Potter, you do not get to stand here in my own home and mock me."

"For Godric's sake, Malfoy. I wasn't making fun. I was asking for help."

"You don't think it works. I can see it in your eyes."

"So what if I don't? Prove me wrong. I know you'd fucking love that."

Malfoy paused. "Well, that's true. I would love that."

"As I loved witnessing your little tantrum."

"You, Potter, can just fuck right off." Malfoy whirled around and strode deeper into the house, his robes billowing out behind him. Harry followed, because that's what he did when Malfoy was ahead of him in an empty corridor and the unknown was within reach. His trainers squeaked against the polished floor.

Malfoy stopped short and spun around again. "I'm doing this for McGonagall. Not you."

"Right," Harry said.

"Follow me."

**~oOo~**

"Most Wishmakers use only use the debris from meteors," Malfoy said as he poured their tea.

Harry waited to hear Malfoy explain his superiority. He wasn't let down.

"I, however, developed a base for the shooting star dust, as it's commonly known, to amplify the magic contained therein."

"So I've heard," Harry added. "Neville."

"Yes. Well." Malfoy pushed a teacup towards him. "Few know the details." Malfoy sat broom-straight in his chair.

"What are the details?"

"I don't think so, Potter. In fact, details are precisely what I need from you. I need to know the nature of your wish so I can create an appropriate base." Malfoy sipped his tea.

"You know what I wish. To help McGonagall."

"I need more. If you wanted to help McGonagall because you were in love with her, that's one potion."

Harry choked on his tea.

"Ageist." Malfoy raised an eyebrow and slid a napkin across the table to him.

Harry let the remark pass, choosing to shake his head instead.

"If you wanted to help her because it would make you lots of money, that's a different base."

"I don't need money."

"If helping her would somehow better your health, yet another."

"I get it. I'm only helping her to help her though," Harry insisted. "And it's my job."

"There we are," Malfoy said, looking pleased. "Success at work. That's a pretty common one. Simple enough base to brew."

"I mostly just want to help, though." Harry watched as Malfoy swirled the tea in his cup, a small but genuine smile on Malfoy's lips. Malfoy's other arm lay casually atop the table, almost all the way across to him. Merlin, Malfoy had long arms. Long, slender arms. Probably the longest arms Harry'd ever seen, actually. On a human, anyway; he'd seen some strange creatures over the years.

"Of course." Malfoy sipped his tea. "That's all I need for now. Once you've finished your tea, you may leave. I will contact you in three weeks' time when the base is prepared."

"Three weeks?" Harry said doubtfully.

"Possibly more. Wish bases take time. It will also be very expensive for you."

"Ugh. Fine." Harry drank more tea and tried not to think about how Malfoy seemed almost handsome in his fine robes. "I don't care about the cost if it works. By the way, do you have an extra—"

Malfoy reached into his robes and slid another business card across the table.

**~oOo~**

Three weeks was a long time.

Harry grabbed a quick pint with Ron, played Exploding Snap with Cedric, and visited Neville as the black raspberries ripened. He examined the Marauder's Map with Moody, even though almost all of the names on it were different these days, and took an old wireless up to the attic for Neville's Gran. He flipped through some more books on the Hogwarts Founders that he'd got from the Ministry, talked to another house-elf, and tried out a few more spells that he thought would render the charms on the castle susceptible to changes, unfortunately to no avail. He thought about planting his plants, but he was growing to like their company—even the littlest one was now big enough to whistle—so he decided to leave them indoors a little longer. He even did his laundry, which wasn't even that unpleasant because Myrtle had been behaving better since the Howler.

And that was all by the second day.

As he did all of this, he thought of Malfoy—thought of his house, with the elegant, spacious interior tucked away behind the simple façade by clever magic. Thought of Malfoy's ridiculous job, that Harry was now having trouble laughing about because of the look on Malfoy's face when he'd spoke. He thought about how pleased Malfoy had looked when he thought he'd figured out Harry and the motivation behind his wish. The genuine way Malfoy had smiled to himself… it had caught Harry's attention. Now Harry was eager to find out what would happen next with the potion.

Maybe… now that they were adults… maybe having Malfoy around now and again was good. Not that he wanted them to grab pints in the evenings or take walks in the park, but once in a while, maybe a little Malfoy wasn't so bad. He did make good tea. Or at least his house-elves did.

Deciding the summer evening was too beautiful to ignore, Harry went to find Cedric.

"Of course I know where Cedric is," said Mad-Eye.

"Right. Where is he then?"

"Not here." Moody looked bored.

Harry sighed and contemplated his options. He could ask Moody if he wanted to go outside, but Moody was, as always, wearing only pants, and Harry felt like that was a bit more than he could deal with right then. Instead, he went upstairs and knocked twice on the attic door.

"Mrs Longbottom?" he called. "Fancy going for a fly?"

**~oOo~**

Malfoy's owl arrived three weeks and one day later (not that Harry was counting).

_It's ready. Tomorrow at 7 p.m. will be fine,_ the note said.

"What if I'd been busy?" Harry wondered aloud.

Neville looked up from his peppermint. "What was that?"

"Never mind," Harry said, and went back to watering the pumpkins. "By the way, one of the plants you gave me has a little flower."

"Which one?"

"The one with the purple. I think it's a Shrivelfig of some sort."

"Might be. I'm not even sure what all I gave you at this point. Must like it there on your windowsill, though."

Harry flipped him the V. "I've been busy. I'm pretty sure another is a Sri Lankan Singing Lemon. Your Gran saw it when she visited the first floor last week, and that's what she called it. I'm going to have to have a lemonade stand when it starts producing lemons. Maybe I'll let Teddy help manage it."

"I still can't believe Gran…"

"I know," said Harry. "Nor can I."

**~oOo~**

Harry was confident as he approached Malfoy's the next evening, and didn't hesitate when he reached the front gate, striding boldly through the magical barrier and directly into Malfoy's grand entryway. He didn't trip or even stumble, so of course Malfoy wasn't waiting on the other side to see it.

"Malfoy?" Harry took a few steps farther inside. He stared at the painting of the peacock. The peacock named "Earl," according to little plaque at the bottom.

"Earl was my favourite," Malfoy said stiffly as he entered the hall. "I trained him to hunt Hufflepuffs. Or, at least, I thought I did. Testing his prowess was difficult because Hufflepuffs never visited the Manor. I was young," Malfoy said. "And he used to keep me company between hunting Puffs."

Turning to Malfoy, Harry raised his eyebrow.

"As though you weren't inordinately fond of your own white bird," Malfoy retorted. "Regardless, come along. I need you to test the base."

_Touché,_ Harry thought and followed the swirl of dark robes and beacon of neat white hair into the depths of Malfoy's home.

Malfoy led them far past the initial sitting room where Harry'd had tea last time, instead taking a right and then a left and then another right until they reached what appeared to be Malfoy's laboratory. There were no other peacock paintings along the way, though candles flickered and lit the occasional still life.

"Have a seat," Malfoy said, so Harry did. Malfoy disappeared into a back room.

"What do I have to do?" Harry asked the doorway.

Malfoy reappeared with a large vial of bright green liquid. "I have to ensure the base is calibrated properly. You don't have any allergies."

"No." Harry watched as Malfoy popped the cork and, with an eyedropper, added six drops of the liquid to a small glass dish. He handed it to Harry.

"Smell it."

"Okay." Holding it up to his nose, Harry took a tentative sniff. Furrowing his brow, he tried again, breathing deeply.

He looked up and found Malfoy watching him intently. "Nothing," Harry said. "Are you sure you—"

Malfoy snatched the dish from him and added another teaspoon or so of the liquid. "Drink," Malfoy demanded, handing it back.

Harry looked doubtfully at the green liquid, then back up at Malfoy, before shrugging and tipping the little dish into his mouth.

Nothing.

He shook his head at Malfoy. "I don't taste anything."

Malfoy took the dish from him and dropped it into a nearby sink. "Right. You may go. Do you remember the way or shall I have a house-elf show you out?"

Harry blinked. "I... think I remember. What now, though? Will it be another three weeks?"

Malfoy ran water into the sink and washed his hands. "I should hope not. The weather forecast is favourable the next few evenings. It should be quite clear out."

Confused, he watched as Malfoy rinsed and then dried his long, slender fingers on a little towel. "But it didn't work. Don't you have to try again?"

"Oh, Potter. The base was perfect, of course."

"But I couldn't—"

"Exactly. Any other person would have tasted or smelled something—too much of one ingredient over another—but I calibrated the base exactly to you, so you tasted what you refer to as 'nothing,' though I would call it perfectly balanced and neutral instead."

"Oh," he said, "But how'd you know how to make it to match me?"

Malfoy laughed dryly. "Gryffindors aren't prone to change. And I need not mention that 10 years ago, I knew you better than you knew yourself—and, I suspect, the opposite was also true."

"No," Harry said, slightly embarrassed at the truth of it. "You need not mention that."

"Right. Thus, no further research was necessary for me. Though I had a house-elf locate a strand of your hair, just in case."

"Now you watch for stars?" Harry asked.

"Yes. I will collect the appropriate dust from a meteor and, on your behalf, incant your wish in terms that will most ensure effective fulfilment."

"Then you add it to the base."

"Then I add it to the base," Malfoy confirmed. "And you must complete the final ritual within one hour's time."

"So you'll Owl me?"

"You will have no more than five minutes to reach my gate if you wish to complete the process in time, so I recommend Apparating. It will likely be in the middle of the night or pre-dawn hours."

"I don't think an owl will wake me. I'm a heavy sleeper."

"Don't be."

"I can't help it, you know."

"Figure it out. I won't do this a second time."

**~oOo~**

The owl came on Thursday night, right before midnight. Harry had gone to bed, but asked Moody to watch for owls and wake him as necessary. Both the owl-watch and waking Harry by any means necessary aspects of the task appealed to Moody, as Harry suspected they would.

His shoes were untied and his eyes were still bleary when he arrived, but he made it to Malfoy's within the requisite five-minute time frame.

Malfoy was waiting for him. "Take my arm," he said, and Harry did, feeling his stomach twist and stretch until it came out his nose as Apparation took them to their destination—Malfoy's back garden, he assumed. The moon and stars provided enough light for him to see fairly clearly once they arrived and his eyes had time to adjust. They were in a large clearing. Malfoy's skin and hair were ghostly pale next to him in the darkness. A large telescope was stationed off to one side. He didn't have much time to look around though, as Malfoy was already pulling the vial of green liquid from his pocket. It shimmered, luminescent in the glass tube.

"The incantation is _Volorium stellaris_," Malfoy said.

"_Volorium stellaris_," Harry repeated.

"Yes. The second syllable is accented in both cases."

Harry repeated the incantation again, and this time Malfoy seemed to approve.

"Do you need to use your wand?" Malfoy asked.

"No," Harry admitted. "Not really anymore. Unless you think it would be better to use it."

"Wandless magic will be fine. All right. You will stand precisely there, and look up towards Polaris. No, Potter. The North Star is in the north."

"I knew that."

"Now you're facing east northeast. Salazar help me. Did you even take Astronomy?"

Harry shrugged. "A long time ago."

Muttering under his breath, Malfoy handed the vial to Harry, then stepped up behind him. He sighed heavily. "You focus yourself on the North Star—no, to the_ north_… yes, that way—and I'll say a few words to request the celestial power join us. Then you'll undress, rub the shooting star dust all over your—"

"_What?_" Harry whirled around and looked at Malfoy. "I have to—no. _No_."

"Bloody hell, Potter. Who do you think is going to see you? I certainly have no interest in your backside. I'm a professional, remember? And there's no one else around for miles, see? _Homenum Revelio!_"

Sure enough, nothing happened. He was alone with Malfoy and about a million stars. But _Malfoy._ Absolutely not.

"I thought I had to drink it!"

"Why would you think that? Weren't you listening? I explained everything weeks ago. Your wish is now in the vial, as is the magic to grant it. If you swallowed it, the magic would have to go all the way into your stomach to work. You'd probably implode into millions of pieces."

"Oh, I don't know, because you had me taste it the other day? You did _not_ mention that I had to rub star juice on my bum! I think I'd remember that!"

"I didn't?" asked Malfoy. "My mistake. Regardless, there isn't much in that vial. You have to spread what's in there over your skin."

Harry's stomach flipped in his stomach. "Are you sure you won't look?"

"I'll be focused on Polaris, like you."

"How do I get myself into these messes?" Harry groaned.

"I believe that's a question for another day. We are under time constraints here."

Naked, covered in stars, and alone at night with the now-pretty Draco Malfoy. This is what he got for trying to help people. "Fine," Harry ground out. "Let's get it over with."

"Excellent. As I was saying, you'll concentrate on the North Star and think about your wish while I say a few words. Then you'll silently undress and apply the contents of the vial. Then return your attention to Polaris and count to three before saying the final incantation. I'll say that with you."

"Then we're done?"

"Then we're done and the wish will come true."

"For sure?"

"Of course. 100% satisfaction guaranteed."

Harry hadn't believed it before, not really, but here, out under the stars with Malfoy, with the vial in his hand and a spell on his tongue, it seemed possible after all. Imagine. Malfoy granting wishes.

"Okay," Harry said firmly. "Let's do it."

Malfoy nodded once, and Harry turned so his back was to him. He looked up.

"It's the star at the end of the Plough, right?"

"Merlin, Potter, Polaris isn't in the Plough; the Plough points to Polaris."

"I thought it was in the Plough."

"It's in the Little Bear."

"Oh," said Harry. "Okay. Got it now."

Malfoy sighed. "All right, here we go," Malfoy said before growing quiet.

Harry concentrated on the star and let the night sounds settle him. He could hear Malfoy softly breathing behind him. After time and nerves and distraction began to fall away, Malfoy began to speak.

_"Exaudi me, o stellis,_  
><em>pars magicam partem hac nocte,<em>  
><em>praesta optatum."<em>

Malfoy's voice grew quieter, and Harry felt as though the stars drew nearer to listen.

_"Sed salvos mundi,"_ Malfoy said.  
><em>"Mundi et draco. Praesta optatum."<em>

Harry felt his shoulders twitch at the word Draco, but disguised it by stepping forward to begin to undress as quickly as possible. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the ground to the side. He kicked off his shoes and tried not to trip as he stood on one foot to pull off each sock. He stepped out of his trousers and tossed them onto the pile. With a final glance at Malfoy to verify he was indeed looking nowhere but directly up, Harry removed his underpants and retrieved the small vial from where he'd set it on the ground, shivering a little despite the warm summer night air. The effervescent green liquid was glowing.

Uncorking the vial, he poured some of the substance into his hand and then spread it over his chest, adding more to coat his shoulders and arm. Switching hands, he managed to coat his other arm, too.

The liquid was thick but not sticky, and seemed to evaporate after touching his skin but left a shimmery coating behind that tingled. He next spread some on his legs and used the last of it to brush on his face and even managed a cursory swipe of across his bum after all. Best to be thorough; he didn't particularly want to risk possible implosion.

He stepped back into place, trying to breathe normally as his body hummed with an energy he'd never felt before. When the slightest trace of a breeze tickled against his skin, he nearly gasped at the sensation.

Then… what had Malfoy said? Oh right. Find Polaris once more. Harry bit his lip. Where was it? He couldn't find… What if he managed to get the wrong star? Malfoy was going to—oh. Wait. There. Good.

Time to count.

One…

Two…

Three…

He felt Malfoy place a hand on his shoulder.

"_Volorium stellaris,_" they said together.

Light rushed at him, surrounding him with brilliant colours, overwhelming and glorious, and leaving every nerve more alive than he had known was possible. Stars shot past his eyes, though real or imagined he couldn't have said for certain. He inhaled and felt the magic fill his lungs. It couldn't be real, but it was real, and it was—

It was over. He fell to his knees, his body trembling and his blood pounding as he panted for air.

Merlin, it felt… like when he… really, quite like when he… except even better than the very best time he'd ever had… The very best anyone ever had...

"I think it worked," he choked out, glancing up at Malfoy.

"Salazar, Potter! How powerful are you?" Malfoy was looking at him with wide grey eyes and a strange look on his face.

Harry tumbled forwards, sprawling out against the warm earth. He knew he was naked but cared not an ounce. "No idea," he replied. "But I've certainly got nothing left now." He dropped his head to the soft grass.

**~oOo~**

"I swear to god, if you granted everyone's wishes in a hundred mile radius and put me out of a job, I'll kill you, Potter."

"Pretty sure I didn't," Harry said. He was properly dressed again now, and had tea and a piece of fancy chocolate in front of him as he sat across from Malfoy.

"We'll see," Malfoy replied, tapping his finger on his teacup. "I felt it standing behind you. That's never happened before."

"That was intense," Harry admitted.

"So I've heard. Rather like…"

Harry coughed, but then realized what else Malfoy had admitted. "Wait. You've never done it?"

"The Shoemaker has no shoes and the Baker's wife goes hungry," Malfoy said. "No, I haven't. I could, I suppose. Maybe one day if there's a good reason. Well, I've got to get going. Once you've finished your tea, you may go home to bed. The wish should come true in a day or so. I'll owl you your bill." Harry's head swam trying to follow between nice Malfoy who smiled and overshared to curt, professional Malfoy to traces of the obnoxious schoolboy he'd mostly left far behind, and back again.

"Not sure I can sleep."

"You're more worn out than you think. If you don't mind, send me a note and let me know how the wish ends up coming true. I will so enjoy when you admit you were wrong about me and my work. Do try to write neatly so I can read it. I might even have it framed." He smirked at Harry and stood as Harry downed the last of his drink.

"You're such a prick," Harry said, smiling as he was being shown to the door, and he couldn't help but turn back to Malfoy as he exited. "Thanks."

Malfoy nodded. "Goodbye, Potter."

**~oOo~**

When Harry walked in the door, Cedric was there. He was laughing. Hard. "Your skin sparkles."

"Star dust," Harry said. "Celestial magic."

"It's a good look on you. I bet it would look even better in direct sunlight."

"Fuck off." Harry laughed. "Guess I'd better take a bath, though, shouldn't I?"

Cedric grinned. "I was about to make that very suggestion."

"I'll bet you were," Harry said and headed upstairs to bathe and then sleep. Malfoy had been right about that; exhaustion had set in almost immediately after he entered his front door.

**~oOo~**

The wish didn't come true.

Harry gave it 72 hours to be sure, but there were no results to speak of. He hadn't figured out the solution, nor had he any further ideas of where to start. The joke was on him. He should have been angry at Malfoy for fucking with him or disappointed because he was no closer to finding an answer for McGonagall. And he was, a little.

Mostly, he was sad.

Somewhere along the way he'd bought into Malfoy with his star dust and wish-granting spiel, all wrapped up in dark midnight robes and white blonde hair and eyes that fell halfway between.

He'd wanted it to work. He'd wanted to be wrong. He'd wanted Malfoy to be… good. Good at what he did, good at how he did it. Working hard with his unique gifts in his precise way. Malfoy was supposed to be that way now. That was how the way it should have been since… since they'd left Hogwarts.

The let-down settled in Harry's stomach, a heavy weight that grew sour as the hours passed.

He stared out the window, unseeing. His plants had seemingly tripled in size that week—or had he not been paying attention?—but he could take no joy in their growth or normally comforting plant chatter.

He returned to Malfoy's house yet again.

"It didn't work," he announced when Malfoy let him in. "I wasn't wrong. Was it all a joke? Make an arse out of Harry Potter time? I thought we were past that bullshit. Going to go to _The Prophet_ now?"

"Oh, fuck off, Potter. Grow up while you're at it too. Of course it worked. It always works."

"Not this time."

"Impossible. Besides, you felt it. I felt it. The whole bloody neighbourhood felt it."

"Malfoy, listen to me. I may have felt some crazy star magic, but my wish didn't come true. That's all I know. I still have no answers and have no leads for trying. The only things I've figured out in the last three days is that Cedric likes sparkles and star dust doesn't come out of bed sheets."

"What are you on about? Look, if it didn't work, you did something wrong. Did you look at the wrong star?"

"Ever think that maybe you're the one who messed up?"

"Impossible."

"You keep saying that, and yet here we are."

Malfoy began pacing. "Potter, we both felt it work. A wish was granted."

"Then it wasn't the right wish!"

Malfoy stopped short. "Of course it was the right wish. You wished for success at work."

"Mostly I wished to help Hogwarts."

"Same difference," Malfoy said, waving him off.

"What's your suggestion then?"

Malfoy frowned. "I suppose we need to try again. I'll brew another base." He sighed. "All this extra work and I can't even charge you for it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not like I'm getting paid either."

Malfoy looked up sharply. "What did you say?"

"What? I won't be paid for the extra time either, is all."

"But you are paid to do this job." Malfoy's mouth was tight.

"Not technically, no. I do it to help out."

"_I thought you said your job was consulting for Hogwarts_," Malfoy growled.

"It is my job. It's just not paid. What do you care?" Harry asked. "It's none of your business."

"Oh, I don't care," Malfoy spit. "But the potions base sure did! Without a pay check, it's not considering your volunteer activities to be work. Trust that your real job will go smashingly, though!"

"That is my real job," Harry insisted. "McGonagall always tries to pay me. Only I don't want her to because I don't need it."

"Apparently that doesn't count. Now we have to start over from the beginning." Malfoy paused and Harry could see his jaw working. "Fuck, Potter. Now I can't even charge you at all because you're doing it as a volunteer and you'd probably planned to spend your own money on it."

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "But so what?"

"Bloody hell. No, I can't charge you money to help Hogwarts. Because that would make me a little shit."

"I don't care what it costs. You should be paid. Well, if it comes true, you should. I want to figure this out so the professors who were hurt in the war can Apparate instead of walking through the cold hallways all winter and stop taking five sets of stairs each evening to get to their quarters. I also want the students to be safe."

"Great," Malfoy said. "You really only want to help."

"Yes," said Harry.

"Just great," Malfoy said.

"Now what the hell is wrong?" Harry asked.

"No one has ever wished for something completely altruistic before, you senseless, selfless wanker!" Malfoy said. "So I don't even have a basic starting point for a base potion developed for this. I'm going to have to start from scratch, and it's going to take all of my time, and I'm going to waste a ton of ingredients, and I will be reminded with every stir and chop of how bloody virtuous Harry Potter is."

"Keep your robes on," Harry said. "I'll pay for the materials—at least let me do that—and besides, it won't take that long. I'll even do the paperwork to be reimbursed by Hogwarts if it's that important to you. It won't be so bad. In fact, it'll go faster than you think."

"Do I even want to know why exactly you think that is?" Malfoy asked.

Harry grinned. "Because I am going to help you!"

"Salazar Slytherin slay me now," Malfoy said, and strode from the room.

**~oOo~**

At ten the next morning, Harry showed up at Malfoy's gate completely uninvited but determined to speed up the process of wish-base making by whatever means necessary.

Malfoy let him in, which Harry took to be a good sign.

But then Malfoy had him grinding Wiggentree bark for nearly three hours and Wiggenbush for another two, and he didn't let Harry do anything interesting at all, which Harry thought was fairly rude. Especially because Malfoy got to stir brews and add ingredients and pop thick, pink, gooey bubbles that rose from his cauldron.

Harry huffed loud enough for Malfoy to hear.

"When you're done there, the rat tail needs soaking," Malfoy said in response. "Unless you want to prep more Wiggenroot."

Glancing down at his little piles of ground Wiggentree and Wiggenbush—but not Wiggenroot—Harry quickly stood and ran to the supply closet. "On it!" he said before Malfoy could investigate and force him to grind for even one additional minute.

Harry was working on the rat tail when he remembered the Hair-raising Potion assignment they'd had in second year. He looked over at Malfoy. "Hey, remember back in—"

Malfoy looked up. "When Longbottom exploded his—"

"And it sprayed everyone in the row—"

"Everyone's hair stood straight up for three days." Malfoy's mouth turned up at the side.

"Poor Hermione."

"Granger's hair didn't look any different at all!"

"Hers was a nightmare."

Harry found himself watching Malfoy's genuine smile until it faded. Once it had, he glanced back up at Malfoy's eyes and found Malfoy watching him. Malfoy broke the moment and went back to his potion, so Harry went back to his rat tails, and they lapsed into silence once more.

"That was my second favourite class," Malfoy said after a while.

"And which was your favourite?" he asked, because Malfoy obviously wanted him to do so.

"The time when I slipped some extra Confusion Concoction into your juice before class so you couldn't remember how to get yours to thicken."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "I got a zero! You—Malfoy! Merlin, you were such a—"

"Yes," Malfoy said. "It ruined your life."

"I can't believe you—"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Of course you can."

Watching Malfoy as he poked at the brew, Harry noticed his shoulders moving under his robes as he stirred. Harry always noticed shoulders.

"Potter." Malfoy had stopped.

"Malfoy."

"Were you ever going to mention that you hadn't ground any Wiggenroot?"

"Probably not," Harry said.

Malfoy considered this for a moment but then cast a stasis spell on the cauldron and went to his supply closet.

**~oOo~**

"Pass the—"

"Hand me—"

"Cut the—"

"Stir, please."

"Don't forget—"

"Remember when…?"

"Tea?"

"Tea."

They developed a rhythm, Harry and Malfoy. It took little time, no more than a day or two, and perhaps Snape and McGonagall and the others had been lucky never to discover how well the two of them could work together.

Until Malfoy started reprimanding him for the forty-seventh time.

"No. Potter. No. Stop. _Stop!_"

Harry stopped chopping and looked up.

"I said to_ dice_ it."

He looked down at his little pile of what he thought was diced valerian.

Malfoy's sigh was far more obnoxious than Harry thought appropriate.

"This_ is_ diced," Harry said.

"You're chopping, not dicing."

Glaring at Malfoy, Harry asked, "What's the difference?"

Malfoy broke into a grin. "None at all. Simply fucking with you."

Harry stared at him before calmly picking up a leftover flobberworm and lobbing it at Malfoy's head. He took great pleasure in Malfoy's squawk, barely dodging the dirty spatula Malfoy flung at him in return.

**~oOo~**

"Like this."

Harry watched as Malfoy sliced the rose thorns into perfect little right triangles, which, looking at the perfect shape of them, Harry had trouble believing was actually possible.

Glancing up to make sure Harry was watching, Malfoy finished a thorn. "See? Just so."

"I'll try," Harry said, holding a thorn between the tips of his fingers.

He cut down and ended up with something more closely resembling a parallelogram. Cringing, he said, "I'll have another go, yeah?"

Malfoy said nothing as Harry positioned a thorn to try again.

This time he ended up with a triangle, but there was no right angle to be found.

"Here, like this." Stepping behind him, peering over his shoulder, Malfoy watched as Harry lined up another thorn. Malfoy put his hand over Harry's, carefully guiding the knife into position. "Is this all right?"

Nodding, Harry swallowed. Having Malfoy behind him again, touching him, Malfoy's breath soft against the side of his neck… like the night out under the stars. Harry tried not to think the thoughts his mind was inclined to consider. Had it been so long that the slightest touch made his brain imagine crazy intimate impossible scenarios from thin air? It wasn't like Harry thought of Malfoy like that. Or, at least he wouldn't have been if Malfoy wasn't practically draped over him.

Uncertain, Harry rested the knife back on the table and turned his head to look at Malfoy, first seeing his pink mouth, open slightly.

"Pay attention," Malfoy said, and Harry watched his lips move. "Or you'll lose a fingertip."

Harry forced himself to meet Malfoy's eyes, grey and warm and more open than they generally were, before nodding and turning back to the rose thorn and repositioning the knife.

"Wait." Harry hesitated. "I'm confused."

"All right," said Malfoy.

Harry huffed. "It's only that I thought rose thorns were used in bases for love wishes. I overheard you tell Neville."

"Ah, yes. Longbottom supplies them to me," Malfoy said, stepping back, but only a little. "Regardless, you're correct; I use rose thorns as a primary ingredient in bases for wishes of that nature. Your wish is not romantic, nor are we creating a base of that sort. However, I am incorporating some of the same ingredients, because is it not love in some form that drives your wish as well?"

"Oh," said Harry, glad that he wasn't facing Malfoy at that moment.

"Mmm," Malfoy said. "Now, shall we proceed?"

Nodding, Harry took a deep breath as Malfoy stepped close once more and placed his long fingers over Harry's own.

**~oOo~**

Harry never found it important to explicitly label the various parts of himself, mostly because everyone else had been content to do it for him. Some of those parts were genetic—there was Potter and Evans running through his blood. Some labels referred to his personality, and he'd always been pleased to be thought of as Gryffindor. Other labels pertained to the events of his life; to many people, he'd always be The Boy Who Lived.

He was also a consultant, a wizard, a Hogwarts alum, and a Brit.

An orphan. A survivor.

A Godfather. A friend.

These were terms other people used for him, and for the most part, he agreed with them. No one had ever put a label on one part of him, though, because he hid that small bit of himself away, holding it private, deep in his chest, buried under ribs and muscle and, perhaps, a little emotional distance. Neither had it ever become necessary before to take that part of himself out and examine it in the light. As such, one aspect of his heart had gone unlabelled for a very, very long time. Harry didn't necessarily feel the need to do so now, but he did think he should at least acknowledge that beating life within and maybe, also, the way it worked.

He stood and dropped the germander he'd picked into Neville's basket, wiping his hands on his trousers afterwards and leaving both smelling faintly of garlic.

Neville was facing away from him, bent over his peppers. Harry'd come by after working at Malfoy's all day. The sun was already close to the horizon, but was taking its time getting there in the typical way of a mid-summer evening.

A twinge of nervousness hit Harry's stomach, but he disregarded it. "I think… I like both," he said uncertainly to the back of Neville's head.

"Red and yellow?" Neville asked over his shoulder. "You want to take some home? Want some green ones too?"

"No, I mean. Yes, sure, of course. But… no. I mean," Harry thought for a moment. "I like both. All of them. I like… everyone. Well, not everyone, I suppose. Not like that."

Neville was looking at Harry now, from down on his knees in the garden. "I was starting to get the impression that you didn't like anyone," Neville said after a moment.

"I didn't, for a long time. But I could. Like someone. Regardless of… gender."

Neville's eyebrows furrowed as he started sorting through his basket of peppers. Selecting a fat green one, he turned back to Harry. "Catch," he said, gently lobbing it in Harry's direction.

Harry caught it. He started to say thanks, but Neville was already picking up another pepper from his basket. That one, too, was tossed Harry's way. It was bright orange.

Realizing Neville wasn't finished, Harry secured the peppers in his arms so he was prepared when, a few seconds later, Neville sent a firm yellow pepper Harry's way.

A large red one followed after that.

Harry looked at Neville inquiringly.

"Take them home. You said you liked all of them," Neville said.

"Right." Harry looked at the brightly coloured vegetables in his arms. "Thanks."

Neville nodded and turned back to his peppers. "Good. Now carry the rest up to Hannah and I'll deal with the rest of the germander."

**~oOo~**

Because Malfoy wasn't paying attention, Harry looked.

Malfoy was reading—trying to find out something about the acidity of apricots—and Harry was supposed to be stirring, once clockwise, then twice counter, every third minute.

It left plenty of in-between minutes for looking.

For example, no one else turned pages like Malfoy. Harry noticed that right away. Each flip of the parchment was an elegant turn of his pale wrist, and his elbow moved with a precision that was all Malfoy. There was something about his long, thin fingers that messed with Harry's mind.

As though on cue, Malfoy turned the page in his book.

How was it possible, Harry wondered, that he was in this position? He'd meant to fulfil a wish for Hogwarts, not to start to want something more for himself. He'd certainly never expected Malfoy to capture his attention yet again, much less in this way.

"Potter," Malfoy said without looking up. "You were to stir twelve seconds ago."

"Right," he said. "On it."

Malfoy turned the page again, and Harry's stomach wobbled as he grabbed the wooden spoon and stirred.

**~oOo~**

Harry's feet ached. They'd been working for five days straight, and midnight had passed hours ago.

"Potter, when you've finished with the octopus powder, I need three hairs of—what?"

Harry looked at him. "I haven't sat down in nine hours. I'm deaf from you always telling me what to do, and my chopping wrist is only still connected to my arm because of magic."

Appearing somehow surprised at this information, Malfoy looked around. "We need more ginger. Want to run to Neville's?"

"I'm pretty sure Nev's sleeping right now."

Malfoy stirred his cauldron a few times before turning down the heat. "Tea?"

"I need sleep, honestly."

"Right, of course."

"Do you not sleep?" Harry asked.

"I do. Sometimes. Rarely at night because I have to stargaze."

"Is that what you'll do after I leave?"

"Probably. After I clean up in here."

"You'll work all night?" Harry didn't know why he was surprised. A month ago he'd never have imagined Draco Malfoy working as hard as all that, but by now he should have known better.

"If it's cloudy outside, I'll have a nap. Clear nights are often hard to come by."

Harry sighed. "Tea will be fine."

"I thought you wanted to go home to bed."

"It's fine. I'll stay and help." Merlin, Malfoy better have strong tea in abundance. An all-nighter… he hadn't done that since… well, a decade ago. If Malfoy was going to keep working though, so was Harry.

The tea was strong, but not strong enough. When Harry dozed off and his head fell into a freshly mashed bowl of Boom Berries, Malfoy sent him trailing after a house-elf in the direction of a guest room.

Harry passed out immediately and didn't wake until knocking jarred him from sleep sometime the next morning.

A knock sounded again from the door.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked the door.

"The potion must rest for a day and a half before we can proceed. I need to meet with a client now to do a base test, and I suspect you'll want to be going yourself."

Yawning, Harry looked around the room. There were vases in odd, modern shapes and an elegant wand holder on the nightstand. A single wall was painted a deep green, though nothing else in the room was green. He sniffled and wiped his hand over his nose, coming away with a Boom Berry seed. He scrunched up his nose and sniffled again.

Malfoy cleared his throat on the other side of the door. "Do I need to repeat that?"

"No, no, I got it." Harry sat up and stretched. "Thanks for letting me crash here."

Malfoy said nothing to that, so Harry threw on his trousers and opened the door, untwisting the shirt that had bunched up in the night.

The intense gaze Malfoy levelled on Harry had him running a hand through his hair and squaring his shoulders.

"I cast a cleansing spell to get rid of the Boom Berry juice last night," Malfoy said. "You were covered in it. You may have swallowed some. Monitor the situation and let me know if you experience any dizziness. I have an antidote if needed."

"Er. Thanks," Harry said. "But I think I'm fine."

"Yes. Well, best be going. I'm sure Cedric will be wondering where you are."

"Cedric? I really don't think it matters to him when I—"

"Last night you were keen on… bathing. Before bed. With Cedric. Said he'd like that. Of course, I took care of the Boom Berry juice, so you'll need another excuse. Or not. I don't know your… situation."

"My situation? I mentioned Cedric?" Harry snorted. "Nah. He simply likes baths so he always wants me to take them. Likes it when I hold things underwater is all."

"Yes, I'm certain that's all," Malfoy said. "Well, this has been an enlightening conversation, but I really must go."

Harry shrugged. "Owl me when we can get to work again?"

"Yes," Malfoy said after a beat. "I will."

**~oOo~**

Harry sat on his bed and looked out his window at the setting sun.

There was nowhere he had to be and nothing pressing he really needed to do. The majority of his days had been that way for years.

The last few weeks had been different, though—a flurry of new experiences, learning, and experimentation. New feelings, too. Respect. The beginnings of friendship. Sparks of desire, if he was honest. It was almost as though Harry liked Malfoy. Rather a lot like that, in fact.

Sometimes Harry thought about the night Malfoy had stood behind him in the darkness. The memory made his skin prickle. He remembered the way the magic of the star dust had felt on his skin, and the way that he could feel Malfoy all along his back, even though Malfoy had touched only his shoulder.

He knew that Malfoy hadn't looked, because he'd said he wouldn't, and Harry knew that Malfoy had at some point grown into his integrity. Sometimes he imagined Malfoy had looked, and that made him feel something he never expected to feel about Malfoy. It made him want. He could admit that now, if only to himself.

It had been a long, long time since he'd_ wanted._

And then he remembered after the celestial magic had left him, when the experience ended and Malfoy released the stars from his grasp, the way he stared at Harry, like he'd never seen him before. It wasn't about… Malfoy wasn't staring at Harry because he was naked; he'd looked at Harry in amazement. He'd looked because he had to. Because after what they'd shared, staying connected somehow was the only possible option—at least until Harry was too exhausted and collapsed in the grass.

After that, Harry could only remember the feel of the ground beneath him and the soft grass between his fingers.

If Malfoy had looked then…

Harry shivered.

He and Malfoy couldn't make any progress on the base potion for another day or so, but it didn't matter. He raced down the stairs and passed the kitchen, stopping only to grab some ginger, scratch his purring pear on its uppermost leaves, and water the other plants—he really was going to have to plant them soon as they were now much too big for his windowsill. He cast a quick charm at their pots to enlarge them and give their roots additional space before he called goodbye to whichever ghosts were in hearing distance before Apparating to Malfoy's front gate.

The magical barrier gate to Malfoy's entryway was closed off when Harry arrived. He knocked loudly, but there was no response, and he could find no doorbell. He banged louder on the gate. "Malfoy?"

He supposed Malfoy might not be home, though evening had set in and shops would be closing soon if they hadn't already. Neville had once implied Malfoy didn't go out much anyway.

"Malfoy?" he called again. "I brought the ginger. Maybe I could chop it up or shred it or whatever needs to be done so it's ready for tomorrow? Malfoy?"

A rustling sound came from the side of the house. "Salazar, Potter. I do have neighbours," Malfoy said as he emerged from the middle of a large rhododendron. He wasn't wearing his robes. Or shoes.

He_ wasn't wearing robes._

Malfoy _wasn't wearing any shoes._

Harry's mouth went dry.

"You're not wearing robes," Harry said, taking in the dark trousers and the white shirt with the sleeves rolled up casually to his elbows. The formerly secret lines of adult Malfoy's body were beyond what Harry could have imagined. He swallowed. Maybe because Malfoy was such a snooty traditionalist, but Muggle clothing had never looked so good before; it was scientifically impossible, especially with that top button open like that. His bare feet, too, with those long, pale toes and high arches, right there on the grass. Absolutely indecent. Harry had never seen such indecent arches.

"As I mentioned, I have neighbours," Malfoy said, walking quickly over to Harry. "They might not… understand."

"Oh," Harry said, chagrined. "Muggles."

"Muggles," Malfoy confirmed, reaching Harry. "The back of the house is concealed and expanded behind its own barrier, but the front is completely visible."

"It's good I brought ginger, then, and not doxie eggs," Harry said with forced brightness, handing the ginger to Malfoy. "That's for the… you know. You said we needed it."

"Longbottom gave you this?"

"Er. No. It came from my kitchen, but Neville gave it to me originally."

"How long ago?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Oh. I don't really… is it not fresh enough?" Harry looked closer in the dim lighting. He supposed the root was somewhat shrivelled.

"It's fine. I appreciate it. It shouldn't matter too much. That's what freshening charms are for."

"Shall I come in then? Get to work?" Harry asked.

"Oh," Malfoy said. "I can't tonight."

"Oh," Harry said, taking a step back from the gate. "I didn't…"

"It's clear," Malfoy said. "It's been cloudy for nearly a week straight but tonight will be clear and I have to watch for meteors. I have a few clients waiting for shooting star dust."

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll just—Unless. I could... watch too. With you."

Malfoy cocked his head. "That wouldn't help me," Malfoy finally said.

Harry shrugged. "Probably not, but it's interesting to me."

"It's nothing you weren't supposed to be doing every night as a student for several years," Malfoy said pointedly.

"It'll be fun," Harry said. "Now, come on. It's getting dark. Let me in."

"It's work for me. I can't… I have to pay strict attention."

"I won't distract you."

Shooting him a look, Malfoy said, "Of course you'll distract me."

"Well, I'll watch too, to make up for it."

Malfoy paused. "I can't believe you're talking me into this."

"Let me in?"

Malfoy opened the gate. "Follow me. The back gardens are right through the rhododendron barrier."

Harry followed.

Once they were through, Harry half expected Malfoy to put robes back on because they were out of the sight of Muggles, but he did not. Instead he turned to Harry. "This will be very boring for you if you don't like Astronomy, but you can sit quietly and watch with me. I was setting up over here." Malfoy led the way to one side of the clearing. Harry stayed close as the twilight began to darken into night. Stars were already appearing overhead.

"I've put up barriers around the property to block excessive Muggle light from coming in, but the moon is out tonight, though it will be setting soon. Anyway, there's not much I can do about that," Malfoy explained. "There's a telescope over there, if you want to look. I've put a spell on it to follow certain planets and other deep space objects, so ask it if you want to see something in particular. I won't be able to use it—I might miss meteors if I focus on a specific narrow target."

"Got it," Harry said, dropping to the blanket.

Malfoy looked down at him, obviously trying to work something out in his head. "Potter, why—"

"You're not wearing shoes."

Malfoy sniffed, but joined him on the blanket. "The evening is warm and I keep my grounds well-tended."

Harry thought he could see his cheeks grow pink in the fading light.

"One more point, Potter. When I spot a shooting star, I'm going to have to act very quickly, and I'm going to need to be alone to work. I can't have you tagging after me as I prepare for my client's arrival and wish-casting. Though professional, the procedure is also intimate, and the client will not appreciate an observer."

"Fair enough. Can I Disapparate from here?"

"Yes," Malfoy replied, digging around in his pocket. While pulling a slip of parchment from his pocket, he whistled a peculiar bird call. A pretty little grey owl responded a few minutes later, swooping low and coming to a stop a few metres from them. Malfoy rooted through a small case at the edge of the blanket. "Here, Imogen." He held out a treat for her, along with the parchment. "You know how this works, yes?" The bird hopped forward in assent. "Here's the note. Stay close until I tell you to deliver it, all right? You're going to Avelina Tugwood, in Devon."

The owl held out her foot for the parchment while she enjoyed her treat. Once he had fastened it, Malfoy patted her in the head with two fingers. "Remember, stay close." Harry swore she nodded before taking flight once more.

"She'll wait in the trees nearby until it's time," Malfoy explained.

"What else do you have there?" Harry nodded at the case.

"A vial for the star dust and a cork to cap it. A copy of the exact wish to read over before I cast any spells, to be certain. A snack."

"Anything good?" Harry reached over to peer inside.

"Stay out of there, you turnip," Malfoy said, zipping it back up and setting it out of reach.

Harry grinned and settled back on his elbows, kicking off his shoes and toeing off his socks before running his toes through the grass by the edge of the blanket. The soft grass felt completely amazing. He caught Malfoy watching him.

"What?" teased Harry, "It's a warm night and you've got nice grass."

"You really are a turnip," was all Malfoy said, before lying back on the blanket, his hands behind his head. "Now lie down, will you? You're blocking my view."

More stars now dotted the sky. Harry found the North Star without too much trouble.

"No, Potter. To the _north._ Yes. There you are," Malfoy said.

Oh, right. Well, he'd almost found the North Star anyway.

They lapsed into silence as more and more stars appeared in the sky. Crickets played their songs nearby, as did at least one frog. The night was warm and fragrant. Harry could smell summer flowers and traces of some scent Malfoy used and something else. Something…

"Potter, is that your _feet?_" Malfoy asked.

"Oh, no. I don't think." He sat up and took a deep breath. "Oh. Oh, Merlin. Yes," Harry said, flinging a Scourgify at them. Then he fell back to the blanket and covered his face with his hands. He felt Malfoy's magic somewhere near his toes.

"Relax. It's a subtle fragrance."

The scent of jasmine wafted through the air.

"Bloody hell. I'm sorry. It's just… washing my socks is… tricky," Harry confessed. "I have… sort of a…" What Harry had was a Myrtle, but he wasn't sure whether he should confess to having a houseful of ghosts that behaved according to whims that were not his own. "I have to use Scourgify charms more than I'd like, let's say that."

"If I were you, I'd Banish the entire drawer full and start over."

"Probably a good idea," Harry said. "Merlin. I'm such a mess."

"A tragic mess, really."

Harry groaned and pinched his eyes shut.

"Hopeless, too. You forgot that one," Malfoy added, his voice softer.

Harry turned his head to look at Malfoy, and found him gazing back, his grey eyes laughing and a fond sort of smile on his face.

"If you look up, you'll be able to see the Milky Way now that the moon has set," Malfoy said, but he was watching Harry the entire time, his eyes focused on Harry's mouth.

"All right," Harry said, his eyes flicking down to Malfoy's mouth instead.

"You'll need to look up though," Malfoy said.

"Yes," said Harry, looking back at Malfoy's eyes, which were charcoal against the dark night.

"I thought you said you weren't going to distract me."

"I thought we agreed I probably would anyway," Harry teased, but dutifully turned back to look up at the sky. "It really is beautiful."

"It is," Malfoy acknowledged. "Humbling in both power and expanse."

Harry looked at him with faux incredulity.

"Yes, yes, I know. It takes an entire universe to accomplish it, but even a Malfoy may be humbled."

"And then still you try to harness its power."

Malfoy grinned. "In a sense, I suppose I do."

"It's funny," Harry said. "I look up now and I can't imagine not being able to see the magic there, yet I never really paid attention, even in school. Nev always talks about his plants that way; he sees the magic in them. We all took Herbology, but I don't feel it the way he does, though I'm starting to learn."

"That may be true—and Salazar help me for saying this—but just as I have the ability to work with celestial magic, and Longbottom has his plants, you have a strong connection to the magic that is in us, and are able to access it in ways that most wizards and witches don't even dream about."

"I don't think that's—"

"Potter, where is your wand?"

"My wand? I don't know." Harry felt his pockets. "Might be at home. Can't remember exactly."

"My wand is either in my hand or my pocket all day, every day, because I need it. I use it constantly. I haven't seen you use yours once. I also use incantations and need to practice new spells. You just… throw your hand out in a vague direction and whatever you intend to do is done. I fear I'd be terribly envious if I couldn't harness the power of the heavens."

Harry snorted at Malfoy's grin.

"Stop smiling. You're supposed to be watching for dying stars. You ought to be very morose."

"Except, of course, shooting stars are not stars at all but simple meteors. And should I chance to see the death of an actual star—exceedingly rare to witness—it would have happened long, long ago, so the mourning period would be far past. I'm merely watching for meteors disintegrating, burning up in their last blaze of glory."

"So you can steal their magic. Practically a grave robber."

Malfoy shuddered. "That sounds horrible. Must be Muggle."

"It—Oh! Oh! Malfoy! Did you see?" A streak of white light shot through the sky, as though by magic.

Already scrambling to his feet, Malfoy whistled the pattern, and Harry saw an owl fly off in the darkness. Imogen was off to deliver her parchment.

Harry sat up. "Guess I need to go."

Malfoy paused only a moment to look at him. "I'm sorry, but yes. I need to work now. Come back tomorrow night if you like. We can work on the wish-base."

"Right." Standing up, Harry took a deep breath, and, though he wanted to do nothing less, he Disapparated on the spot.

He landed in his kitchen, familiar and comfortable, but hardly magical like it had been at Malfoy's.

Harry knew he wouldn't be able to sleep, so he went out into his backyard to see if the same sort of star magic was present there. He Transfigured some old rope he'd found in the cellar into a hammock and lay back in it to look up. Bringing one of his plants with him, he held it so it rested on his stomach. It twittered and cooed at him, one of its long branches wrapping around his wrist and holding tight.

Light from London didn't help, but he couldn't make out many of the constellations; Sinistra would've been disappointed in him for sure. He thought he found the North Star, though—easier without Malfoy's breath on his neck.

Ursa Minor.

Cepheus.

And there was Draco.

Harry traced the form of the dragon with his eyes. All those years he'd forgotten about Malfoy, and he'd sort of been there all along, right at the focal point of Harry's universe.

Merlin.

He was in trouble.

**~oOo~**

"Here."

Harry took the little dish from Malfoy and sniffed the second attempt at a wish base—a deep red this time, and thicker. Nothing. He said as much.

Malfoy was watching him carefully. "All right." He added a teaspoon or so to the little dish and handed it back to Harry.

Swirling the liquid in his mouth, Harry hunted for a flavour to identify. There was none. "Nothing," he told Malfoy.

Looking pleased, Malfoy took the dish from Harry and placed it in the sink.

"And it took less than two weeks," Harry said.

"Yes," Malfoy said. "And I have another base developed for future use. That's something, I suppose."

"So now we watch for stars?" He slid off the counter he'd been sitting on so they could head outside.

"We?" Malfoy raised an eyebrow, as he began to pour the remainder of the deep red wish-base into a vial for safe-keeping.

"I thought… last night wasn't so bad," Harry said. "I liked it. I promise my socks are clean this time."

Malfoy sighed deeply. "Why, though?" he asked as he put a stopper in the vial, sealing it tightly.

"Why?" Harry asked. "Why do I want to stargaze?"

Harry looked around the lab at his own messy workspace and how the rest of the space was neat and efficient and organized, the precise way Malfoy wanted it.

_Because,_ Harry thought. _Because you're fascinating to me, and I want to know more about you, and I can't wait to hear what you'll tell me next, even if you call me a turnip yet again. Because I can't forget the way you looked under the stars, and because something about the way your fingers handle parchment and the way your head works both take my breath away._

"Yes, Potter. Why? Why not go home to your warm bed and I'll Owl you when it's ready."

"It's not that warm," Harry mumbled. "Besides, don't you want me to stay?"

Malfoy studied his face for a moment before turning away and busying himself at the sink, spelling the dirtied brewing supplies and setting the cauldron to soak. "It's going to be cloudy. The forecast calls for several days of overcast skies."

"I see. How about after that? Do you want me to watch with you then?"

Harry couldn't imagine the answer was no. He'd seen how Malfoy'd looked at him and smiled at him, even if Malfoy tried not to, and Harry knew he made Malfoy laugh. Even if Malfoy saw him as nothing more than a friend, surely friends could watch stars together under the circumstances.

Malfoy took forever to finish cleaning the various pieces of equipment, but eventually he turned off the water and faced Harry. "The next few nights will be mostly cloudy—"

"That's not what I—" Harry started to say, but Malfoy held up his hand.

"As I was saying. The next few nights will be mostly cloudy, but come Tuesday, the skies should clear, and right in time for the peak of the upcoming meteor shower. Have you ever seen the Perseids?"

Harry shook his head. "Not really."

"Well then, I suppose you should join me on Tuesday evening. I will Owl you once the weather forecast firms up, but provided it is clear, I plan to head out after sunset. We will be guaranteed to see more than enough shooting stars to fulfil your wish."

"And you want me to watch with you," Harry confirmed.

Malfoy's eyes flicked up to Harry's. "Everyone should see the Perseids."

"You know that's not what I asked," Harry took a step towards Malfoy.

"I would appreciate it if you would join me, yes," Malfoy finally said.

"Good," Harry said, stepping closer still.

"Good," Malfoy said. "But Potter, for Merlin's sake, you've got lacewing fly in your hair again."

Harry tried not to smile as Malfoy's magic washed over him.

**~oOo~**

Harry stopped short when he entered his kitchen.

The cherry tree waved hello and formed a heart shape with its leaves. Harry waved back dazedly.

"Uh, Mad-Eye? Cedric? Is anyone here?" he called, trying to sort out what had happened during the six or so hours since he'd left for Malfoy's. "Anyone?"

Moody arrived first, floating into the kitchen moments later. "Harry."

"Yeah, uh, when did this—" Harry gestured at the plants. "—happen?"

"7:02 p.m.," Moody replied, "And forty-two seconds."

Cedric arrived next and the Shrivelfig wolf-whistled when he entered. "Hullo, Harry. I don't know why it always does that."

"Yeah, hi, Ced. Um, what's going on in here?"

"I think your plants grew, Harry." Cedric examined the Singing Lemon tree, which began humming a Weird Sisters song.

Harry wondered how on earth the lemon tree knew that song, but even more, he wondered how it had grown five feet taller since he'd left, with branches that now had to bend to the side when they reached the ceiling. The purring pear was even taller than that, and it had started to crack the plaster of his ceiling.

"The orange tree bloomed at 8:14 p.m.," Moody added, floating closer and tapping its trunk with his walking stick. The tree cooed happily at the attention. "But I missed the time that the apricot flowered because Augusta sent Myrtle another Howler."

"What'd she do this time?" Harry asked, only half paying attention as he started to untangle the twisted tree branches to separate the apricot from the cherry, both of which were now taller and broader than he was. If he could get them apart and into different rooms, maybe he could sort this out before his kitchen became more of a jungle.

"She pulled Helena's hair," Cedric said. "Hard, I reckon."

"She deserved it," Myrtle called up through the kitchen sink drainpipe as the lemon tree switched to "God Save the Queen." "She wouldn't stay and talk to me!"

"Right. Pulled… Helena's… hair… Can't imagine why she wouldn't want to stay and… Wait!" Harry stood and smacked his head on a branch when the words sunk in. "Helena? The Grey Lady was here?" Harry was flabbergasted.

The Shrivelfig chose that moment to burst into full bloom.

"For the love of Godric, what is going on around here? What time is it? 9:00 p.m.? Neville might still be awake. Cedric, can you Firecall him and ask him what to do? The apricot has grown another foot taller in the last five minutes."

Cedric swooped out, and the Shrivelfig drooped in response.

"He'll be back," Harry assured the plant as he grabbed its pot and tried to pull it from the comforting embrace of the orange tree. "I promise." The orange wouldn't let go, though, and leaves fluttered to the ground every time Harry yanked. Overwhelmed by the chaos and unsure where to start, he eventually decided there was nothing to do but sit down in the middle of his kitchen floor.

"Is the Grey Lady still here?" Harry asked when he could think again.

"She only stays from 6-7:30 p.m. on Fridays."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "She's a _regular—_" Harry started to say but was interrupted by the doorbell. "Never mind. Mad-Eye, can you let Neville in?" Harry asked, silently apologizing to Neville for sending his pants-only ghost to greet him.

"I don't like to be the one takin' orders, Harry," Moody said.

"Yes. I know. Just this once please," Harry begged from the floor.

"Yes. Fine, fine." Moody passed through the wall on the way to the door.

The drain in the sink gurgled and Harry heard Myrtle sobbing theatrically from the basement. "Merlin, what now?" he asked before he started sneezing violently from all of the pollen.

The cherry patted his head comfortingly, as Moody swept back into the kitchen. Malfoy was at his heels. "Wasn't the Longbottom boy," Mad-Eye explained. "Never fear. I brought the scoundrel to you."

Harry was unable to think of a spell that would allow him to sink through the floor, and too late anyway. The look on Malfoy's face…

"Wait, wait, wait. Stay right there, Potter. I only meant to bring your wand back since you forgot it, but this! This! I want to make sure I remember this perfectly. In fact, do you have a spare vial I might borrow? I'm going to want to want to watch this again and again."

"Harry? You in here? Flooed right over to help—Malfoy, you're here?—_Oi!_ Harry! What in Merlin's name?" Neville appeared behind Malfoy's shoulder. The Shrivelfig perked right up, posing dramatically against the refrigerator.

Cedric entered via the floor a moment later. He eyed Malfoy warily, but Malfoy simply blinked, understanding dawning on his face. "Cedric. Cedric who likes baths?"

"I don't like baths." Cedric huffed. "I find them helpful when solving problems; that's all."

The Lemon Tree began humming "All You Need Is Love." The cherry swayed along to the rhythm, but the Shrivelfig inched closer to Cedric, who floated by the hob.

"No one takes baths but Harry," Myrtle stopped weeping long enough to chime in. "And he won't let me see."

"Constant vigilance," Moody muttered, "Not difficult. Potter sleeps naked." Mad-Eye took the opportunity to scratch his bum as he swished his walking stick through the air for emphasis.

Harry sighed and looked at Neville and Malfoy for help, but Malfoy was shaking with laughter and Neville kept walking in and out of the room because he was laughing too hard to breathe properly when he stayed.

The pear purred happily as it finished punching through the ceiling of the kitchen and poked right through the plaster into the library above.

"Some help you two are," Harry grumbled and got to his feet. "When you're all finished, perhaps we can start to sort everything out before my kitchen turns into a forest, the pear takes over my house, and the fig gropes Cedric's arse again without permission."

Cedric spun around and slapped the eager branch away as Harry marched out of the kitchen and into the sitting room with Neville, Malfoy, and the ghosts close behind.

Surprisingly, Neville and Malfoy took charge and worked out a plan with some input from the ghosts and Harry. Harry and Neville went to work building a magical solarium with very high ceilings for the plants, though Neville wasn't sure how they'd all matured so quickly either. They brought in Hannah for reinforcements because she was good at negotiating with the plants, so she had them all separated in short order for Neville to re-pot and prune.

"Should've taken almost a decade to mature like this," Neville said. "I didn't necessarily intend to give you a bunch of fruit trees, though I thought you'd like the cherry."

"The cherry was the first one you gave me. And I do like her. She's very sweet," Harry agreed. "I probably should have planted them."

"Probably," Neville said. "You spell them to survive the winter, but I guess this works too."

"I liked their company," Harry admitted. "But this was a good idea, a happy medium, having the plant room right off the back of the house. I'm sorry I'm making you help with construction work at 10 p.m."

"That's what friends are for," Hannah said, smiling mischievously as she added, "Friends and Draco Malfoy."

"Malfoy is a friend," Harry insisted immediately.

"Of course," Hannah said.

Shaking his head, Neville said, "By the way, Harry. There's going to be plenty of room for the trees to grow in here, but they shouldn't get much taller than they are now. If they do, tell me. They will probably fill out more though. I can't believe several are flowering already. I've never seen anything like it. They must have really liked it in your kitchen. Did you use some sort of magical fertilizer?"

"Not unless you count the time I spilled old coffee grinds on the apricot."

"Yeah, no." Neville Banished the remainder of the tree clippings and Harry finished watering the newly relocated plants in the new solarium.

"They're going to love it out here," Hannah said, looking around. Spotting an old box, she Transfigured it into a little swinging seat for two. "And so will you."

"Thanks, both of you. So much." Harry's heart was overflowing with warmth now that the chaos had subsided. Sometimes he had trouble believing his friends would go to so much trouble merely to help him.

"You're welcome," Hannah said. "Now let's go see what Malfoy is up to."

Malfoy had volunteered to get a handle on the ghost situation. He'd also made tea once the plants were out of the kitchen, and hadn't it made Harry's heart squeeze tight to see him at work on something so domestic in Harry's own home.

By the time they gathered once more in the kitchen for Malfoy's tea, Malfoy and Cedric seemed to have struck up a tentative working relationship; they'd managed to repair and repaint the entire ceiling until it looked like new, and Moody'd supervised when Malfoy fixed the wooden floors in the library above. Somehow Malfoy had not only managed to get Moody to dress completely for the first time, but had also figured out the Grey Lady's visiting schedule and had written it down for Harry so Harry could ask her about the Hogwarts Apparation spells. Malfoy had even called in his house-elf to do Harry's laundering and keep Myrtle occupied. And no one had got any Howlers.

Harry could've kissed him. Soft and sweet, and then long and hard, and then soft and sweet and long again, on and on and on. Instead, he got out the milk and sugar and set them next to the teacups. His wand also rested on the table.

"Actually, Harry, I think Nev and I are going to head home," Hannah said. "It's late, and I'll have to be up early to open the shop in the morning."

"Oh, right, sure. Thank you so much again, for your help." He stood and hugged Hannah and accepted a fist bump from Neville.

He started to lead the way to the Floo but Hannah stopped him. "Sit. Your tea will get cold. We know where it is. We'll see ourselves out."

Thanking them again, Harry collapsed in his chair and let his head fall to the table. He was suddenly exhausted. He looked up at Malfoy from where his cheek rested on the tabletop. Malfoy was sipping his tea and looking back. "So how'd you get Moody to put on clothes?"

A sly smile curled Malfoy's mouth. "I pretended to hit on him."

"You did not!" Harry sat up, his mouth open in disbelief.

"I did." Malfoy looked proud. His eyes were dancing. "And you're welcome. Besides, doing so wasn't a stretch; he has extraordinary thighs."

Harry had to work to swallow his tea so as not to spit it out from laughing. "He really, really does."

Malfoy smiled at him over his tea. "So. Ghosts."

"Yeah, seems I still have a few," Harry said.

Malfoy took a sip. "I think we all do. At least I know I do."

"You do?"

"Perhaps one or two," Malfoy said.

"Oh," said Harry.

"Anyway, I brought your wand back. I thought you'd want it at some point and I didn't think I'd see you until Tuesday."

"Thanks," Harry said. "I'm sorry you got roped into helping, though it made a huge difference. I know you probably wanted to catch up on sleep tonight."

Malfoy shrugged. "Tomorrow night will be cloudy too. Show me the new solarium and then I'll go?"

"Sure," Harry agreed, standing to lead the way.

He hadn't really noticed before, but now, in the near darkness, the room seemed completely magical. Fairy lights twinkled, reflecting off the glass walls and ceiling, which must have been Hannah's doing. The six trees, artfully interspersed throughout the space, were all blooming now, and the room smelled sweetly beautiful. The little wooden swinging bench beneath the cherry tree was welcoming, and the tree itself beckoned them over. Malfoy sat down on it with Harry. They were close enough that Harry could feel his warmth and energy.

"You have good friends," Malfoy said.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "I really do."

"Talented."

"Yes."

"And some of them are even real people."

Harry laughed. "It's true."

Malfoy set his hand next to Harry's, in between them. Their little fingers touched. Harry glanced at Malfoy from the side of his eye.

"You'll be able to see the stars from in here on a clear night," Malfoy said thoughtfully.

"And the sun will be warm even in the winter."

"I think your lemon tree has a baby lemon or two." The tree was humming a Brahms lullaby.

"They grow up so fast," Harry joked, and they lapsed into comfortable silence.

Eventually, Malfoy breathed out a long, slow breath. "I should go. I really do need to get some sleep and it's got to be 3 a.m."

"Well past, actually." Harry stood, though he was reluctant to let go of Malfoy's smallest finger. "C'mon. I'll show you to the Floo."

The cherry tree waved goodbye.

**~oOo~**

Harry couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy. He kept thinking about what Malfoy was doing, whether he was working or seeing friends or maybe at Neville's. He wondered what sorts of tea Malfoy liked best, and what his favourite wireless programme was, and whether he still played Quidditch. He remembered what Malfoy looked like at night in the moonlight, the face Malfoy made when his tea was too hot, and how Malfoy smiled to himself when he thought no one was watching.

Harry kept himself as busy as he could, but as he was picking his first crop of lemons, he wondered what Draco Malfoy looked like beneath his robes. When he harvested apricots, he wondered whether he'd have been able to keep his eyes off Malfoy if their positions had been reversed and Malfoy had worn the star dust that night. When the cherries were ripe, he wondered as he picked them what Malfoy tasted like. He wondered what Malfoy thought of him.

The first oranges smelled brightly of citrus, and for some reason, that made Harry imagine what Malfoy's hair would feel like between his fingers and what Malfoy's eyes might look like after being kissed. The Shrivelfigs were so plentiful that Harry had plenty of time to consider what sounds Malfoy might make and what he might say if Harry touched him in all the ways he dreamed of touching him.

He wondered whether Malfoy did any of the embarrassing sleep things that people sometimes did. He thought about sleeping beside Malfoy, and he might have wanted that most of all.

The days passed far too slowly. Eventually, he Owled Andromeda to see whether Teddy wanted to help him run a lemonade stand, because Harry had no other ideas for dealing with the overflow of fruit now in his possession. They set up one outside Andromeda's house since Grimmauld Place remained mostly hidden, and Teddy, of course, was delighted. At first Teddy mixed some less popular concoctions, like pear-shrivelfig juice, but tall glasses of the lemonade itself, along with the fresh orange juice and other nectars, were purchased quickly by passing witches, wizards, and Muggles. Eventually, Teddy started letting people buy fruit too, because Harry never seemed to run out.

But at night, after they'd packed up the little stand and Teddy had gone inside, and Harry had put the proceeds—more than there should have been, for some reason—in Teddy's schooling fund, Harry went home and dreamed about Malfoy. And when he woke, the intense longing began all over again.

Malfoy had been correct about the weather—the skies didn't clear until Tuesday. By then Harry was so anxious to see Malfoy again that he might have found an excuse either way. Thankfully, none was necessary, and Harry received Malfoy's owl as he hoped he might.

When Harry arrived, sunset was approaching, and Harry's body flooded with relief at the smile offered him upon arrival. Malfoy was wearing Muggle clothes again, and Harry had trouble keeping his eyes off him as Malfoy invited him inside and led Harry through the halls.

"I thought that I ought to show you something first," Malfoy said, leading Harry into his house, but in the opposite direction of the lab, so their path was new to him.

Eventually they reached a closed door. "The study is… often occupied," Malfoy said, knocking and then opening the door.

"Always," a voice drawled from inside.

Harry peered around the doorframe. "Bloody hell."

"I believe you two know each other," Malfoy said.

"I may vomit," the ghost said in response.

"Forgive me, but I don't think you can, Professor Snape," Harry said, then turned to Malfoy. "He stays here?"

"No one… can know."

"That you're here? Of course not. Stay as long as you like. No one will bother you," Malfoy said. "Now, please excuse us, Severus. We need to continue to work on fulfilling a wish for Hogwarts."

Snape made a face at Harry.

"Oh for…" Harry said. "I'm going."

"Enjoy your evening," Malfoy said, quickly stepping back into the hallway.

"Lazy, no good, arrogant, sw—"

Cringing, Malfoy shut the door. "I told you we all have a ghost or two."

"Well," Harry said. "At least you've only got one?"

"Thank Merlin." Malfoy looked relieved. "Still want to go outside?"

"Absolutely," Harry said. If Snape was the worst part of spending time with Malfoy, then Harry would learn how to handle it. He and Snape probably needed to have a conversation themselves one day, Harry decided as he helped Malfoy assemble the necessary star dust–gathering materials.

When they got outside, Harry shed his shoes and spread out the blanket on the ground while Malfoy fiddled with the materials in his case.

"I guess you don't need Imogen," Harry said. "Since I'm already here."

"She has the night off." Malfoy slipped his feet from his own shoes. Harry tried not to stare, but failed miserably; no one had ever had such perfect toes before.

Malfoy continued, "I have several clients ready and waiting. The other nights this week I'll try to do more than one wish per evening; I'll be able to quickly spot the shooting stars and can usually fit in two wishes each night. A meteor shower is my busiest time."

"But only me tonight?" Harry asked, warming at the special treatment.

"So it seems," Malfoy said, setting down the case and settling onto the blanket. The shadows marked the contours of Malfoy's pale face.

"Why?" Harry had to ask as he joined Malfoy on the blanket.

"Because I never get to simply watch anymore. Don't you think this is worth watching?"

Looking up at the star-filled sky, Harry couldn't help but agree completely. "Wow," he whispered, taking in the millions of stars blanketing the sky; the sight took his breath away.

Suddenly a light shot across the sky. "Oh!" Harry yelped, quickly getting to his feet. "Did you see it! Can you get the star dust?"

Malfoy smiled lazily. "Lie down, Potter. You're blocking my view."

"But…"

"But we're just looking, remember? Trust me. We'll see dozens. Are you so anxious to finish and go back inside?"

"No," said Harry as he sat back down. "How do you know which one to use?"

"I'm not sure," Malfoy admitted. "Most of the time, I don't have a choice and work with whatever the skies give me. Tonight, I think we'll know when we're ready to wrap up the stargazing and fulfil the wish."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said, scooting back towards Malfoy on the blanket and plonking himself down. After some moments of pleasant silence he said, "I'm thinking we should arrange play dates. For our ghosts."

Malfoy sniffed. "I should think not. There's no way I'm keeping track of your brood. Severus is quite enough."

"Aw, c'mon. I promise Moody will keep his trousers on."

"You have four! That's hardly fair."

"No way. I do not have four ghosts. Lots fewer, if you think about it. Barely three and a half. Maybe three and a quarter," Harry corrected. "Moody, three quarters of Cedric, almost one half of Myrtle, less than a quarter of the Grey Lady, and then Gran."

"Gran?"

"Er. Yeah. Neville's Gran. Augusta Longbottom. Stays in the attic. Did you not see her—oh! Did you see that one?"

"Gorgeous. Went halfway across the sky. Why is she there?"

"I dunno. Why's Snape here?"

"Because I'm excellent company," Malfoy said.

"That's what I always say too," Harry said, then, after thinking for a moment, "I suppose you're not so bad."

Malfoy sniffed, but Harry was sure Malfoy's cheeks went pink, even in the darkness. The thought made Harry smile to himself.

"Perhaps your taste isn't as poor as I once imagined," Malfoy said eventually.

"You don't know _everything_ about me, you know," Harry pointed out, as his eyes traced familiar patterns in the sky. _Arc to Arcturus,_ he thought. _Glisseo straight to Spica._

"Merely enough to brew a perfect base for your wishes. But you're right. I do not. How many have you seen so far?"

"Three," Potter answered. "Well, make that—"

"Four, yes, I saw it too."

"We won't see Canis Major tonight, will we?"

"Not this time of year, no. Why—"

"Sirius," Harry said. "I'd like to have seen him."

"Ah," Malfoy said quietly. "Perhaps you would like to come back out sometime closer to winter."

"I might. Thank you."

"Jupiter is very visible, if you'd like to look through the telescope. You might also enjoy the Owl Nebula."

"Maybe I will look in a bit," Harry said, unready to give up his proximity to the breathtaking gorgeousness both above and right beside him. "What else do you see when you look up?"

Malfoy smiled ruefully. "Sometimes I see work. Sometimes I see orbital planes and equations. Other times I see my relatives or history more ancient than I can truly fathom. Sometimes I see the way the lens of time and distance changes chaos and violence into something so extraordinarily beautiful." Malfoy cleared his throat. "But I assume you wanted me to point out the Summer Triangle."

Harry smiled in the darkness. "Sure." Something like that. He shifted so his head so he was very close to Malfoy's and their angle of vision was more similar than before.

His eyes followed the path of Malfoy's arm as he raised his wand to point into into the night. "_Lumos distantium,_" Malfoy said, and a thin stream of blue light pointed up into the heavens towards a very bright star. "There. See? That's the first. Then one, two, and three."

"I see." Harry said, watching the light from Malfoy's wand as he pointed to the bright pattern of stars. When Malfoy dropped his arm down again, Harry asked, "how did you know you could be a Wishmaker?"

"Sinistra suspected and offered to work with me. I didn't take her up on it at first. It was… a bad time. I later wrote to her, and she got me started with McGonagall's permission, even though I wasn't a student any longer by then. I also did some research and found there had been two known Wishmakers in the Black family, though mother knew little else about them. Eventually, when it began to seem I might really have this sort of magic within my reach, I located another Wishmaker in Greece and served as an apprentice for a year or so."

"I didn't know you did that." Harry rolled onto his side to watch Malfoy.

"You don't know everything about me either."

"What if I wanted to know more?" he asked tentatively.

Malfoy's eyes darted to his and then away again. "I believe that's precisely what we're doing, is it not?"

"What if I did this, while we did?" Harry put his hand over Malfoy's.

"That would be acceptable, I suppose," Malfoy said, pointedly looking back at the sky and not at Harry, though his cheeks reddened. "Provided that you don't need me to point out the Summer Triangle again."

"I guess I was hoping for a more enthusiastic response," Harry teased. "Something along the lines of, 'Oh Merlin, yes, Potter! Take my hand and make me see stars!' "

Malfoy smiled, almost shyly, and Harry's heart clenched. Turning his hand over so they were palm to palm, Malfoy threaded his fingers through Harry's, squeezing his hand a little. "Better?"

Harry smiled. "Acceptable."

"I've not… done this much," Malfoy said, his voice tight as he looked determinedly in the direction of Polaris.

"It's been a long time for me too," Harry admitted. "I usually just—"

"Keep to myself."

"Yeah."

"It's not… I don't mind it, being on my own. I have my—"

"Yes." Harry had his, too. Ghosts and plants and job and friends.

"But I wouldn't mind this, either," Malfoy said. "At times it can get..."

_A little lonely,_ Harry thought. _I know._ "So it might be good."

"And if it's not?"

"We revert to childish hexes, of course. Though, to be honest, I feel like some part of me will always want to pull your long blonde pigtails."

Malfoy cleared his throat. "My hair hasn't been that long in years."

Scooting closer and shifting so he was braced on one arm, Harry looked down at Malfoy, determined to not let Malfoy avoid his gaze. "Look, I like you. Even if my life was full to bursting, which it isn't, I'd want to add you to it. You should know that. Because now that I'm starting to figure out who you've become, I want to know even more. It's like… like I've had a little taste of spending time with you, but I only feel hungrier for more." Harry took a deep breath. "There's a difference between a full life and a filled one."

"I'm not good at this," Malfoy said. He released Harry's hand and shifted up on his elbows. "But. I think… maybe. Salazar, help me." Malfoy closed his eyes for a moment and then met Harry's again, grey and vulnerable.

Malfoy was so gorgeous looking up at him, his mouth was parted a little, and Harry couldn't stand it anymore after weeks of longing. He exhaled. "Do you mind if I…"

Harry moved in closer and Malfoy made this sexy little breathy sound that made Harry's insides clench, and Draco Malfoy's gorgeous eyes were shining.

And that's when Harry saw it—the reflection of a shooting star in Malfoy's eyes, one that stretched almost the entire length of the sky, long enough for Malfoy to notice it behind Harry's head and follow it too.

"Bloody hell," Harry said. "That's the one, isn't it?"

"Yes," Malfoy said, his voice strangled sounding. "I think it is."

Harry let out a long slow breath and tried to gather himself. Malfoy had already sprung to his feet, and had his wand in his hand. Harry was half in a daze. "Potter, grab the vial with the base from the…yes. Now, stay back while I do this."

Once Harry had the vial, he stood back and watched, glad he didn't need his brain for that because he couldn't think of anything besides the feel of Malfoy's breath and the look in his eyes right before they'd almost…

Malfoy pointed his wand towards the place in the sky where the meteor had disappeared. With his blonde hair and white shirt, he was light against the darkness, lithe and long, concentration and strength unwavering as he commanded the universe. "_Moriens meteoron, Da mihi lumen tuum. Da magicis. Accio magicae cinere!_" Harry could feel the magic, almost the way it felt before a thunderstorm, when the air was thick and everything was electric. Malfoy's eyes were closed, but his lips were moving, incanting Harry's wish.

This Malfoy was no longer the boy of his youth; he had grown into a powerful, poised, mouth-watering man. Harry watched him in awe.

"Open the vial and give it to me," Malfoy said, his voice low. Harry obeyed at once, and Malfoy added, "Now stay back."

Light appeared, low on the horizon, a blur, small at first, but growing larger. Harry could soon tell its form was long, as though a stream of light raced through the atmosphere—directly towards Malfoy's hawthorn wand.

"Wow," Harry breathed, as the light grew close and he could make out the sparkling, glowing star dust coursing towards them.

Mere seconds before its arrival, Malfoy raised his wand higher and then as though directing a symphony, gestured down to the vial in his hand with a flick of his wrist. Holding his breath, Harry stared as the stream of star dust poured itself into the vial, a quantity that could never fit and yet did, and the sky instantly darkened once more around them.

"Holy shit," said Harry.

"The cork please," Malfoy asked, and Harry found himself shaky as he forced his knees to work once more so as to hand over the requested item.

"Here," Harry said, his voice cracking as he handed it over.

Malfoy looked at him oddly. "Take a moment and breathe."

Breathe. Right. Harry concentrated on breathing and soon his heart slowed. He looked back at Malfoy and nodded.

"All right. The next stage is as it was before when you did it. The incantation is _Volorium stellaris,_" Malfoy reminded him.

"_Volorium stellaris,_" Harry murmured, watching Malfoy's lips. "Got it."

"Do you remember how it works? You'll focus on Polaris and think of your wish… no, to the _north_—yes, that's it. I'll recite an incantation, then you take the star dust liquid and rub it all over your hands and arms. Then—"

"You mean, all over all my skin, right?" Harry tingled at the thought of doing that again.

Malfoy looked up sharply. "Er, yes. That would be best. Although, it may not be strictly necessary, but I—"

Narrowing his eyes, Harry asked, "What do you mean 'not _strictly_ necessary'?"

"I really do think we should keep this moving along, don't you? On a strict time schedule and all. Perhaps we can discuss this afterwards?" Malfoy said quickly, handing the vial to Harry, its dark red liquid shimmering and glowing.

"I think we're going to have to, yes."

"Fine, fine. You'll rub the star dust all over your hands and arms." He paused to glance at Harry. "At a minimum," he continued.

Harry huffed.

"Then find Polaris once more and concentrate on your wish. Count to three, and we'll say the final incantation together."

"I'm ready," Harry said, and Malfoy took his place behind him.

Harry wasn't ready. He wasn't ready at all.

Because Malfoy was behind him, and Harry could feel the heat of him at his back, and for fuck's sake, Malfoy'd just performed magic that made Harry's toes tingle, and his heart was still racing. They'd been a second away from kissing before that, and now he desperately wanted to turn around and snog Malfoy with everything that was in him. Yet somehow he was supposed to be_ concentrating_… And…oh Godric, Malfoy's warm breath was on his neck, and all Harry could think about was how he wanted to take those lips and taste Malfoy and run his hands over—and oh he was starting to get a little hard, and where was bloody Polaris anyway?

_"Exaudi me, o stellis,_  
><em>pars magicam partem hac nocte,<em>  
><em>praesta optatum."<em>

Oh fuck, Malfoy had started, and Harry was a mess and… and now he. Oh. Now he had to. It was his turn to. Except maybe he didn't have to.

He stepped forwards with the vial. Hands and arms. He could only do his hands and arms.

He swallowed.

Or.

He could do it like last time.

He glanced at Malfoy, who had his eyes on Polaris.

He set the vial in the grass.

And then he slowly took off his shirt.

Then his trousers.

Then his pants.

When Malfoy realized what Harry was doing, he made soft sound, though he never looked.

Retrieving the vial and emptying the contents into his hands, Harry spread the deep red liquid all over his body, taking his time as he did so. As before, the liquid seemed to evaporate but the star dust made his skin glow and tingle. He made sure to be especially thorough and the sensation was delicious in the sweet summer night.

Malfoy's face looked pained but kept his gaze fixed on the sky as Harry approached again and took his place in front of Malfoy.

Harry dutifully found Polaris too, but the wish for Hogwarts wouldn't stick in his brain. He couldn't concentrate on it. All he could think about was Malfoy behind him, warm and brilliant and sharp and gorgeous. About how they were almost touching, and how badly Harry wished them to be. He thought maybe Malfoy might like him too, but he wasn't completely certain, and he was dying to find out—

Malfoy's hand found his shoulder, and Harry wanted him so badly it hurt. He wanted… He wished for. Hogwarts? What even was that? Who in Godric's name was McGonagall? Harry Potter wished for Draco Malfoy.

"One," Malfoy breathed.

"Two."

"_Wait!_" Harry said. "Wait. Stop. I can't. It won't work." He spun around to Malfoy, who was going to kill him for messing up the ritual, but it wouldn't have worked anyway. Harry hadn't managed a single coherent thought about Hogwarts or Apparation or helping anyone. All he could wish for was…

"_What are you doing?_" Malfoy cried. "Turn around. _Quickly._ I don't think it's too late, but _hurry_ or we will run out of time. The magic—it might still work."

Harry knew he must look ridiculous, naked and covered in glowing sparkly star dust—but the magic wouldn't work no matter how quickly they got on with the ritual. "No, Malfoy. It won't."

"Bloody hell, Potter. Would you _turn around_ and count? That base took _weeks!_"

"You don't—listen. Please. It wouldn't. It couldn't."

"Potter, turn around right now!" Malfoy hissed. "We only have three minutes!"

"No. Please listen to me. It won't work."

"For Salazar's sake, why _not?_"

"Because." Harry swallowed, and Malfoy was just_ looking_ at him in a way that made Harry's heart hurt. "For my wish to come true… we'd need a different base." Harry exhaled. "We'd need the rose thorn wish-base. The one that helps people—"

Malfoy's eyes widened. "Fall in love."

"I'm sorry. I'm being completely selfish, but that's all I could… and the base was wrong for that wish anyway, so I had to stop us. It would have been a waste," Harry confessed desperately

"No. Wait," said Malfoy, increasingly distressed. "It doesn't have to be a waste. We have two minutes. Please, just turn around. We can still finish the spell for McGonagall. We'll sort the rest after."

"I'm sorry. I can't. I tried but I can't. I want to complete the wish for Hogwarts. Of course I do! But all I can think about is… you."

"Oh Merlin, Potter, listen. I need you to set that aside for one minute and—"

"You don't understand. All I can wish for is _you._"

"Oh, Potter." Malfoy sighed deeply and walked a few steps away in the opposite direction before spinning back around and looking at Harry, exasperation written on his face. "You don't need to waste shooting star dust on that, you turnip."

"I don't?"

"I can't believe you just stopped the…" Malfoy huffed. "But no. You don't." Malfoy stepped closer. "Look. It may have been a long time since I've negotiated this sort of situation, but trust me when I say that star dust would be a _complete_ waste."

"Oh," said Harry, as his heart jumped in his chest. "Because you couldn't ever be, even if I wished for it, or because…"

"Unnecessary, more like." Malfoy came closer still.

"Right," Harry said, feeling a little lightheaded.

"Admittedly, I just said this sort of business isn't my strong suit, but I really do think you rather ought to kiss me now," Malfoy said.

The words sent Harry's gaze directly to Malfoy's pink mouth. "Oh," Harry said again. "Yes." Harry breathed and began to lean in. "I just. I like you. I really like you."

Malfoy's face coloured, but he was definitely pleased. "So you've said."

Harry leaned in the remainder of the way. "Really a lot," he whispered, and Malfoy's eyes fluttered shut as he tipped his chin up.

Harry's lips met Malfoy's at last, and the kiss was sweet and perfect. Malfoy's mouth was warm, and soft, and—Harry kissed him again, half smiling as he did so.

"Merlin. You're right. You're bloody terrible at this," Harry teased him, placing a hand on Malfoy's chest; the heartbeat beneath his fingers was thrumming quickly.

Malfoy made a choking sound in response as he reached for Harry, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Harry's fingers clutched at Malfoy's Muggle shirt as he took Malfoy's mouth with his own once again. Malfoy was… Malfoy was _amazing_ at this.

"You're going to get star dust all over you if we keep this up."

A sly smile on his face, Malfoy let his eyes travel over Harry's body. "It feels nice, does it?" Malfoy grinned wickedly.

"It does." Harry blushed fiercely.

"Well then," Malfoy said. "So be it. That's what house-elves are for. The buggers love laundry. Live to serve, according to that oath of theirs." He unbuttoned a few buttons and tugged the shirt over his head, revealing a slim chest and smooth skin that Harry itched to run his fingers over. Tossing the shirt onto the blanket, Malfoy looked at Harry. "Take my hand and make me see stars, Potter." He grinned and grabbed Harry's waist to pull him in close, as Malfoy's mouth found Harry's lips once more.

Malfoy was an amazing kisser. Malfoy was amazing at everything, wasn't he? He wanted to climb on Malfoy and never let go, and they kept kissing and kissing and Harry was definitely feeling it, and he thought Malfoy was too. He thought of Malfoy, some day running his toes along Harry's calf, and how Malfoy's fingers might look touching his… Merlin.

He kissed Malfoy desperately, drowning in the taste of his lips and tongue and mouth and…

"House-elves."

Wait. Had Harry said that? He pulled back, confused, but Malfoy looked equally confused—as well as thoroughly snogged. Harry blinked.

Raising an eyebrow, Malfoy said, "I've heard of calling out your ex's name by mistake, but elves, Potter?"

Harry's brain fought to the surface and when it did, the answer hit him like a Bludger. "House-elves say oaths?" he confirmed.

Malfoy nodded.

Harry grinned. "That's why House-elves can Apparate inside Hogwarts. There's got to be some really strong magic in their oaths. That's the key, I'll bet you a thousand galleons. I only have to figure out how to duplicate it! Where are my trousers?"

"House-elves," murmured Malfoy, shaking his head.

Harry grinned and kissed him fiercely.

**~oOo~**

"NEV? I NEED HELP. REMEMBER HOW YOU CAUGHT THAT RUNAWAY POTATO?"

"Harry, I told you never to Firecall me again during a Howler." Neville covered his ears.

"OH SORRY. IT WILL BE OVER SOON. IT'S KIND OF AN EMERGENCY."

Harry turned to look at Malfoy, who was seated on his sofa in the sitting room. "MALFOY, CAN YOU SEE IF YOU CAN BANISH THE HOWLER OR SOMETHING?"

Shooting him a look, Malfoy said, "It'll be over in 15 seconds. Augusta has found it necessary to reprimand Myrtle for chasing my house-elf, and quite frankly, I agree."

"Merlin forbid you leave your house-elf at home when you spend the night here."

Malfoy looked horrified. "But then one of us would have to cook."

"Point," Harry agreed. At least Malfoy didn't bring Snape more than once per week, which was good because Snape and Moody sniped at each other, and Snape made Myrtle cry a lot, though, to be fair, Myrtle always cried a lot and she was spending much more time at Hogwarts now that school was back in session. At least Snape and Cedric tolerated each other, though Harry was pretty sure Cedric was successfully courting the Grey Lady these days and wasn't around as often. Regardless, Gran had moved on to stay at Neville's since Grimmauld was getting crowded and Neville magically expanded their farmhouse attic for her.

"Oi! Harry! Still here!" Neville said.

"RIGHT. SORRY, NEV. THE HOWLER WILL BE—Ah. Much better. I need to know how you caught that potato. McGonagall contacted me because Grawp ran away and they need to bring him back. I figure a runaway Giant is a lot like a giant runaway potato."

Neville looked thoughtful. "Well, you're going to need bait."

"Done." Harry grinned. "Hermione is perfect. He'll follow her anywhere. I'm sure she'll help if Malfoy watches Rose."

Malfoy made a sound of protest, but Harry waved him off.

"All right, you talk to Hermione and I'll be free after noon tomorrow. Meet you in Hogsmeade?"

"Yes. I'll Apparate us in from there. Thanks, Nev."

Now that Harry'd taken an oath to serve the school, he could freely Apparate like the rest of the faculty and staff. Just as the house-elves were able to Apparate in any location because of their oaths, the headmasters and headmistresses of the school had always said a traditional oath when they accepted the role. The oath was written by the Founders themselves, according to the Grey Lady when Harry finally caught up with her. In it, the headmasters promised to serve Hogwarts above all else. No one had realized that doing so echoed the magic created by the house-elf oath—magic that was stronger than the Anti-Apparation and Disapparation spells, and which allowed them to move about freely as necessary. A similar oath was crafted for the other faculty, and now they, too, could Apparate throughout the large campus.

Rising from the Floo, Harry wandered out to the Solarium.

"I am not changing any nappies," Malfoy informed him, following Harry and sitting next to him under the fruit trees.

"Noted," said Harry. "Hard limit on the nappies. That seems like a house-elf task anyway. Moody can help."

Malfoy sniffed but allowed Harry to put his arm around him. "You're going to have to help me grind Wiggenroot for Mrs Leatherby for several hours."

"Done." Harry placed a featherlight kiss on his cheek.

"And Wiggenbush."

"Fine." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Fine."

"Hopefully I can get Grawp sorted tomorrow. I'm supposed to help Teddy the day after. He wants a bigger sign for his booth. I'll pick the new fruit in the morning to take to him too."

"The sign isn't necessary, is it?"

"Eh. He likes it and it won't take long. Besides, it's all going into his schooling fund." Harry shook his head. "The numbers don't add up, and I've hired a 12-year-old to manage the whole business, yet it's the most profitable venture ever."

"I told you. 100% satisfaction guaranteed. Even if you accidentally wish for an extremely successful lemonade stand."

"I consider myself more than satisfied." Harry smiled as he placed a kiss by Malfoy's ear and trailed his lips down Malfoy's neck. "So… do you happen to have any extra star dust from the Leonids? Because I know there's something we wanted to try."

"I might have some," Malfoy said in a low voice that made Harry's toes curl.

Harry watched as Malfoy reached up and picked a cherry from a low branch; the tree formed hundreds of little hearts with its leaves. Malfoy's fingers found Harry's lips, and he fed the cherry to him, Vanishing the pit. The bright sweetness exploded in Harry's mouth, and Malfoy kissed away the juice from his lips.

"The house-elf will just love washing the sparkles out of the blankets tomorrow morning."

"Just as long as Cedric isn't there when we bathe after."

Harry smiled, content, and Malfoy's grey eyes mirrored back his own feelings. Closing his eyes, Harry leaned in for one of those deep perfect kisses that went on and on.

The lemon tree hummed "Unchained Melody" in the background.


End file.
